And just when she was regretting ever having agreed
to go along, they suddenly emerged through a low
archway to find themselves inside the grand theater.
Well, they weren’t actually inside the theater itself, at least not in the audience section. Eric had brought her to a small waiting area just to the side of the
stage. From this vantage point, Anna could see the
stage and she could see the audience, but when they
crouched down as Eric instructed her to do, no one
could see them. It was a perfect spot.
Eric nodded with satisfaction even before she
could thank him. “I told you I knew where I was
going,” he whispered. She felt her face grow hot and knew it had turned to a color that was not unlike
Eric’s hair. But he continued as if he hadn’t noticed.
He pointed beyond the stage and out into the audi-
ence. Anna could see several men and women seated
at a wooden table that had been set up across from
some of the audience chairs.
Eric pointed to the man in the middle and
mouthed the word “Huberman.” But Anna couldn’t
see the maestro’s face. He was sitting with his back to the stage. How odd. She raised her eyebrows to Eric as if to ask why. But he shook his head. He didn’t seem to understand it either.
Anna continued to scope out the theater and
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noticed that there was a large wooden board
leaning on an easel that had been placed next to
Mr. Huberman and his panel. She squinted to try
to figure out what was on it and finally realized that it was a chart of an orchestra and it was divided into sections to represent the instruments: strings—that
would be the violins, violas, cellos; brass—those were the trumpets and French horns; percussion—the
drums and cymbals; and the woodwinds—clarinets,
oboes, and the like. Under each section on the board, there were squares that seemed to indicate how many
instruments there would be in that section. Several
of the boxes were already covered with names. Anna
didn’t have to ask to know immediately what that
meant. A number of musicians had already been
chosen for those openings. Her eyes zeroed in on the woodwind section and on the clarinets. There were
four boxes—four spots to fill. Two of the boxes
were already covered with names.
Eric tapped her arm. A woman carrying a violin
was walking onto the stage. She bowed in the direc-
tion of the panel. The man next to Mr. Huberman
began to speak.
“Mr. Huberman will have his back turned while
you are playing,” the man began. “This is what we refer to as a blind audition. There will be no consideration
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as to your name or appearance. How you play will de-
termine everything. You may begin at any time.”
So that was it! Mr. Huberman would be picking
his orchestra based only on how the musicians
sounded to him. Anna wasn’t sure if this was good
or bad.
The woman onstage raised her violin to her
shoulder, closed her eyes, and began to play, swaying slightly in time with the music. Anna could see Mr.
Huberman’s head moving from side to side. Every
once in a while he stopped, placed his hand against
his ear, listened, and then resumed his head nodding and swaying. The woman finished playing and bowed
again. The man who had spoken in the beginning
said, “Thank you. That is all.” And the woman left
the stage. Only then did Mr. Huberman turn around,
and Anna finally had a chance to really see him.
He seemed to be an average-sized man, about as
tall as Papa, and very formal looking in a gray suit with a high, stiff collar and a vest, from which he
withdrew a pocket watch that he tapped on. He had
slicked-back dark hair, a clean-shaven face, and eyes that were penetrating. But even from this distance,
Anna could see that his face was kind, not severe
or angry.
He began to talk with the men and women on his
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right and left. With heads together, the group argued back and forth for what seemed like forever. Finally, Mr. Huberman jotted something on a slip of paper.
The man who had given the instructions rose from
his chair and placed this slip of paper over one of the spots on the orchestra chart. Anna squinted again.
There was a name written on the paper and Anna
knew immediately that it was the name of the vio-
linist who had just played. That woman had made it
into the orchestra. But Anna didn’t have a moment
to think about this when a man—this time carrying
an oboe—walked onstage. And the whole process was
repeated. Musician after musician walked on the
stage, and Mr. Huberman had his back to them all.
After each solo, someone simply said, “Thank you,”
and the musician was dismissed. Then Mr. Huberman
would turn around and the debate would begin again.
Sometimes he wrote a name on one of his slips of
paper; other times he wrote nothing. Once, he inter-
rupted a cellist even before the musician had had a
chance to finish. Another time he stopped a French
horn player in the middle of her solo. Anna knew that wasn’t good, and those musicians hurried offstage
looking stunned and shaken.
When Eric’s father came on, Eric stiffened next to
her. His father raised his trumpet to his mouth and
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played. He made it through the whole piece. When
he had finished and left the stage, Mr. Huberman
had a long conversation with his colleagues, then
wrote a name on the paper and posted it in the brass section of the chart. Eric grinned at Anna when he
saw his father’s name on the board, and she returned the smile.
Finally, it was Papa’s turn. He walked onstage,
bowed as all the musicians had done, listened to the instructions, and raised his clarinet to his lips. Anna moved slightly forward from her crouched position.
Her heart was beating in big thumps like the timpani drum of an orchestra. And her breath was quick and
shallow. She stared at her father and then out at the table where Mr. Huberman sat turned in his seat; she prayed and willed him to like what he heard. And
when Papa began to play, Anna felt her heart soar
with pride. This was her father, the renowned Avrum
Hirsch, a great clarinetist. Anna had never doubted
his talent and she had to believe that Mr. Huberman
would recognize it as well. At one point, Eric put his arm on hers as if to stop her from leaping out onstage.
She hadn’t even realized that she was inching forward from her crouched position. If she wasn’t careful,
someone would see her.
Mr. Huberman did not interrupt Papa. When
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her father finished playing, he bowed again and left.
That was when Mr. Huberman turned and began the
discussion with the other people at the table. Anna
could feel the sweat begin to gather at the back of
her neck. She was hot; she needed air and it felt as if the theater, enormous as it w
as, was closing in on her. What would Mr. Huberman do? Would he
write her father’s name down? Would he give them
a chance to start a new life in a country far away
from Poland?
The discussion seemed to be drawing to a close.
This was it. Decision time. Anna inched forward
again and held her breath. Please choose Papa, she prayed. Please write his name down!
“Hey, you little stage rats. What are you doing
here?”
Anna and Eric reeled about and came face to face
with an elderly man who had snuck up behind them.
His face was badly scarred, and the lines around his cheeks and eyes were so deep that Anna thought
they looked like the peaks and gullies of the hill-
side they had passed on the train ride to Warsaw.
He held a broom in his thick hand, poised above his
head. “No kids allowed. Get out of here!” He looked
as if he might strike them at any second. Anna held
her hands in front of her face, but before anything
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could happen, Eric grabbed her by the arm, pulled
her out of her crouched position, and pushed her
forward, back into the maze of hallways and arches
and small doors leading away from the stage. “Run!”
he whispered.
“Get back here so I can show you what we do to
stage rats.” The man was growling behind them but
his voice was growing fainter and more distant as
Eric urged her forward.
Anna turned and shouted over her shoulder. “No,
wait. I have to go back.”
“Forget it,” Eric replied, huffing and puffing on her heels.
“But I didn’t see if he wrote my father’s name
down.”
“The only thing we would have seen is that broom
coming down on our heads.”
Hot tears were threatening to spill down Anna’s
cheeks. A voice inside her head was screaming. Did he choose us? Did he save us? There was no answer.
Finally, they emerged into the musicians’ waiting
room just as Anna’s father was entering.
Anna was still breathing heavily and her face must
have been flushed. Papa touched her forehead. “Are
you all right, Annichka? Do you have a fever?”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to
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speak. She couldn’t tell her father what she and
Eric had done. He would have been terribly cross
that she had disobeyed him and left the room to
sneak behind the stage. But besides that, there was
nothing to tell him, no way to reassure him about
anything. They were both in the dark about what had
just happened.
“Come, let’s go home,” her father said. “I think
that went well.”
Just as Anna was putting on her jacket, she felt a
tap on her shoulder. She turned around to face Eric.
“I hope I see you in Palestine,” he said, and then
he turned and left the room with his father.
I hope so too!
Chapter
15
And then they waited. And waited. And waited. She
had no idea when they might hear of the outcome
of Papa’s audition. She knew there were only two
clarinet spots left in Mr. Huberman’s orchestra. What if Papa hadn’t been good enough for one of them?
What if the answer was no? At one point, she had
gone to search for Palestine in Papa’s atlas, daring to imagine what it would be like to live there. It was a tiny country, especially when compared to Poland,
and far away—across several countries and two seas,
and nestled in between other countries, like Egypt,
Syria, and Lebanon. There was so much that Anna
would have to learn about this part of the world, if and when they ever got there.
In the meantime, there were more and more
104
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newspaper reports about Jewish businesses that
had been vandalized in Krakow and shopkeepers
harassed. The last time Anna had walked by Mr.
Kaplansky’s store, she saw that it was closed and
boarded up. She had no idea if he had been forced
out or if he had decided to leave—like Renata and
her family. The last radio report that Anna listened to had suggested that Hitler wanted to take over all of Poland.
“How can such a thing be happening?” Baba
moaned. Papa didn’t say a word.
More and more of Papa’s students began to bow
out of their lessons. Stefan arrived at her home one day to say that his family didn’t want him walking on the streets in the evenings to Anna’s place anymore.
It was becoming too dangerous for a Jewish person
to be out after dark. Besides, Stefan explained, money was scarcer these days since his father had been
forced to leave his job. They could no longer afford the lessons. Papa shook Stefan’s hand and wished him
well, while Baba rushed to get him some cookies to
take home to his family. Anna looked on and didn’t say a word. Even though Stefan still sounded like a sheep when he played, it was hard to know that he would
no longer be coming around for lessons. It was one
more sign that things were getting worse in Krakow.
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And then one day, Sabina, who played like sunshine,
arrived to explain why she could no longer be one of Papa’s students. He was surprised to see her when he opened the door.
“This is not your day for lessons, Sabina. But come
in.” He stood to one side of the door and motioned
for Sabina to enter. She shook her head and stayed
outside.
“My family just … umm … they just don’t want it
anymore,” she said, stammering to get the words out.
“Are you going away?” Papa asked.
to come here.”
At that, Papa inhaled sharply and took a step
backward. Sabina caught sight of Anna standing just
behind her father. Sabina seemed nervous. In the
presence of Anna’s father, it seemed she had lost some of her boldness.
Anna’s eyes narrowed. Why was Papa even
surprised at Sabina’s announcement? Anna wasn’t.
Sabina’s father had stood watching Mr. Kaplansky
being beaten. And then there were Sabina’s repeated
warnings that Jewish students wouldn’t be allowed
at school. She had even threatened that this day
was going to come—when Papa would no long-
er have any students. Anna knew it would only be a
matter of time before Constable Zabek would order
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his daughter to withdraw from lessons with her
father. And here it was.
Papa had recovered by now. He stood tall and
proud in front of Sabina and simply said, “Yes, I
understand. I wish you well and I hope you continue
to play the clarinet, Sabina. You have a gift.”
Sabina didn’t say a word. She turned and fled.
z
One cold and wet day in January 1936, Anna arrived
home from school. She shivered as she entered the
hous
e and brushed the snow off her jacket. She was
longing for warm weather but she knew that it was
still far away. And these days, the cold in Krakow
stabbed at her cheeks and she had to bury her face in her scarf. The winter was so intense it made her wonder if spring would decide to skip a year. Papa was
standing by the fireplace when she entered the living room. Baba was next to him. And between them on
the mantle was a pale blue enve lope. Without even
asking, Anna knew what it was. The letter from Mr.
Huberman had finally arrived.
“We waited for you,” Papa began. “We didn’t want
to open it without you.”
Anna nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”
Papa pushed his glasses up on his nose and reached
for the envelope, holding it in hands that shook.
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“Well, here we go,” he finally said as he tore the envelope open and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
He read it through before looking up at Anna and
Baba.
“What does it say, Papa?” Anna asked hoarsely.
This was agonizing.
A slow smile began to spread across Papa’s face,
moving from the corners of his mouth and up to his
eyes until his whole face was grinning. Finally, he
whispered, “I’m in.”
For a moment, no one moved. And then Anna
bounded across the room, flying into her father’s
arms with a strength that nearly bowled him over.
Baba was dancing around the room, flapping her
apron above her face and looking more comical than
Anna could ever remember.
“Read it, Papa,” Anna shouted. “Read the letter
out loud.” She needed to hear the words spoken into
the air before she would truly believe the news. The dancing and jumping and shouting finally stopped,
and Papa, out of breath and still shaking, held the
letter in front of him and read.
My Dear Mr. Hirsch,
It is with great pleasure that I am writing to you to invite you to become a member of the new Palestine Symphony Orchestra. I was truly impressed with
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your dazzling clarinet skills. Enclosed in this
envelope you will find your travel certificates, which will enable you to leave Krakow on
April 20 and make your way here. Please make
your travel arrangements as quickly as possible.
I know this is a difficult time in your country
and in most countries across Europe. I look