Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family

Title

Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family

Creator

Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958

Identifier

WWP23084

Date

1920 March 21

Description

Letter from Jon Bouman to his family.

Source

Gift of William C. and Evelina Suhler

Subject

Germany--History--1918-1933
Correspondence
Berlin, Germany

Contributor

Rachel Dark
Denise Montgomery

Language

English

Requires

PROOFREADING

Provenance

Evelina Suhler is the granddaughter of Jon Anthony Bouman and inherited the family collection of his letters from the years of World War I. She and her husband gave the letters to the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum in 2013.

Text

Conditions in post war Germany
Strikes, government
Upheavals in Berlin Sunday evening
INFLATION! March 21, 1920

My dearest;

This is my first letter from German territory, and one I can imagine you have been looking forward to. In any desire to do justice to all the interesting things that have happened and that you would like to hear about, I just have to make a big effort to marshal the events in the sequence they occurred – otherwise it would be an awful muddle, which I am afraid it will be anyhow, as impressions have come so quickly one atop of the other that one feels sort of dazed as a consequence. How lovely! I hear you say. Now let me begin from where I left off when I sent you those two postcards from (Arnstein).

I took the train that would carry me across the Dutch frontier, on Thursday (?) 3:40 0’clock, and after customs examination at Zevenaar by the Dutch customs. I arrived at Elten, the first German station, where I had to go through German customs. I had to undergo a body examination, not very severe, but still they tapped my pockets; perhaps to look for hidden arms.

Never in my life (did) I witness a greater contrast: the clean, appointed Dutch station, and the filthy, uncared for German station. It was simply appalling, the neglected appearance of everything. Pathetic was the sight of paper mottoes in faded evergreen frames hanging about the station, “welcome to our heroes” &c. &c. We were put into a local train, the state of which was beyond description. Not a bit of brass or of leather to be seen; the seats filthy, the windows ditto – I never saw such rolling stock in all my life. Presently I made the acquaintance of a Dutchman of Haarlem with whom I conversed for a long time in German, neither of us being aware of each other’s nationality, until by chance accident it came out. He was a businessman who had often been to Germany during the war and gave me a few useful tips. Of course the railway strike was on and no one really knew exactly how far we were going – I booked to Oberhausen but was told later it was possible to reach Duisburg, where it was “all change” at about 9 o’clock. This made a late meal, but Mr. Wels, (the Dutchman mentioned) presented me with a sausage sandwich, and I had some chocolate with me in case of need. So for the night I went to the Hotel Berliner Hof at Duisburg, and presently I found my Dutch friend there also; he had wanted to go on to Dusseldorf, but found there were no more trains. He got one early the next morning but I was stuck at Duisburg until Friday, when the first Cologne-Berlin train was reinstated. I waked about Duisburg a good deal during the day; the people were very anxious and nervous as there were ominous reports of the “Reds” in the industrial Ruhr basin being about to make a descent on the town. There had been severe fighting all around in these parts, and barbed wire entanglements were being put up around the town hall, and a civil guard was on duty. Noting however happened. The food was atrocious and dear, although not to foreign purses. I changed a few pounds there at the rate of 285 marks for pound 1; the normal rate being 20! This means that to a German things had increased fourteen fold! The bank cashier asked me how things were in England, and on hearing that prices had only doubled, he thought it must be paradise.

The train I took at 10:38 on Friday night went “in the direction of Berlin”. Guards shrugged their shoulders when asked if we could get through; they said if we were able to get through the disturbed area and get as far as Hanover, it would be pretty good work. As it happened, the strike situation had become somewhat relaxed, and we did get through without a mishap. I had been told few people travelled first class because of the drastic increase in the fares. Here I saw fourth class carriages for the first time, but soon second class people invaded the first class as the 2nd class was full up. Nobody seemed to care. So we were pretty crowded.

Another pathetic sight was poor people struggling with great sacks of potatoes and other food which they had gone to fetch from country districts. I saw ladies in furs carrying sacks of stuff on their backs. One working class woman had three sacks and she begged me to take care of one while she removed the other two. They must have weighed close on a cwt. each, too heavy by far her emaciated frame. Quite small children were struggling loads.

I slept fitfully, regretting it was a dark night and nothing visible of the country, but I was told the night train was much quicker than the day train and so we got into Berlin at about a quarter past eight the next morning in a cold drizzle of rain. This was Saturday morning.

It was a most extraordinary sight. No local trains, no trains, no vehicular traffic, no porters, no nothing. It was a General Strike. I carried my luggage to the Central Hotel nearby, and was at once informed that there was no service, and nothing to eat! Not a piece of dry bread, imagine it! I was longing for a cup of coffee, and so set out in the cold rain for the office, which I soon found, and was received with loud cheers Enderis, Moloney, and Josten. I had wired Enderis from Duisburg but my telegram arrived 24 hours after I did! Enderis however had reserved a room for me at the Adler, so I chaned immediately. He had hoarded some food and made me coffee and furnished an excellent breakfast in his own room. What a situation! I did enjoy that breakfast, I can tell you. There was no electric light in the hotels, no meals served, and no service of any kind. Fortunately for me, that was the last day of the strike, and worke was resumed this (Sunday) morning, but we had to make shift with candles meanwhile; that is those who were lucky to have any, others went to bed in the dark.

Here at the Adler I found a host of old acquaintances: Renwick, Leonard Sprag, Edwin Wilcox, Von Wiegard, Conger, RAyomnd Swift, Dreher (formerly A.P.) and the whole bunch whose chief grievance it was that the American bar was shut up. Enderis was a tower of strength; he knew all sorts of places where food was to be had – queer localities, up dark stairs, and through back kitchens, with windows carefully covered up where meals were served surreptitiously and silently.

On the afternoon of my arrival I attended a conference of the government representatives with the press, and wrote my first story. So I didn’t lose time.

How poor people manage to exist at all is a marvel to me; for they cannot possibly pay these high prices – 75 marks for a simple meal but then it is only about 3 shillings English money.

Things being more or less normal today we dined at the Adler restaurant where that episode with Prince Joachim and the French delegation happened recently. It must be galling to poor people to know that others were gorging and guzzling in luxury. Can’t you see that breeds clan hatred and envy? I stood Enderis a bottle of wine, price 75 marks good wine, cheap as dirt, at the present rate of exchange, but inaccessible to Germans except the very rich or the war profiteers, or foreign correspondents.

The Adler, is one of the most splendiferous modern hotels in existence. I have an excellent room, 1st floor, with private bath filled up (?). The ornamentation is barbaric; bed inlaid with house ornamentation(?) imitation malachite (?) (?) (?), (?) also the latest contraptions in the way of comfort. My wardrobe is a joy! Shelves, compartments, &c for everything. Double dons, double windows, reading lamps, the easiest of easy chairs, &c. All in doubtful taste, but the things one needs, and more than one needs, are there. I think the room costs about 100 marks a day, but remember this is less than ten shillings now, so extraordinarily cheap at that rate! And so it is with everything.

I just had a brief chat with Mrs. Moloney. The children were well; Le pays 180 marks a day for his accommodation & the family. Mrs. Josten is in London in their own home at Golders Green. Of course I had a talk with Edwin Wilcox who has grown very grey but is very well. Cyril Brown and his Belgian wife are also here at the hotel. So we have plenty of company and as they are all paid in dollars or pounds sterling, they do themselves remarkably well.

All day yesterday and today we had sundry alarums and excursions, and the situation is so complex and variable that little can be said about it here. Last night for some hours the streets were plunged in utter darkness and but for Enderis I could never have found my way back to the hotel. At some points there are still barbed wire barriers and soldiers in steel helmets demanding to see passports and I have just begun to find my way about a bit. People look glum and sullen, but the necessity to get back to work and orderly conditions is imperative. The discontent is general and no one knows what the next day may bring forth. I had another talk with a secretary of state today. The language question presents no difficulties; it handicaps many Americans considerably.
Moyston I also found here, he is off to Leipzig tomorrow and Evans is at Stuttgart. I think I shall work very satisfactorily with Enderis and Moloney, and we generally manage., by a thousand devious ways, to beat the other correspondents.

I am very well indeed in health, dear, and intensely interested in this job. Use the address Adler Hotelin all communications. I have written at length tonight when I have a chance, as I may be very busy the next few days. These are exciting times! I hope you and the bairns are keeping well. Let me know if you received this letter, and when.

With love to all, and hugs all round,
Your loving,
Jack.

Original Format

Letter

To

Bouman Family

Files

http://resources.presidentwilson.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/1920-03-21.pdf

Citation

Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958, “Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family,” 1920 March 21, WWP23084, Jon Anthony Bouman Collection, Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum, Staunton, Virginia.