After that terrible experience with that dirty old man touching my breast I realised that I had to get my own job. Anything, anywhere, as long as I could earn some money for my grandparents and myself.
I had a cousin on my father’s side, Sadie Feld, who lived in Goulston Street, just off Aldgate and near to Pettycoat Lane. She told me of a job in Aldgate, making ladies underwear and said she would take me along as she was already working there.
I trembled in my shoes. At home I was a Knucker (Yiddish for ‘big shot’). But here I became a Kucker (‘big shit’)! I’d never been on an overlocking machine before, and a girl called Lizzie Cohen was told to show me how to work it. She took one look at me and said,
“I’m only once or twice and if you don’t learn it, then it’s too f***ing bad. I’m on piece work and I can’t afford the time to waste.”
That was my first day at work. I shivered and cried inside me. I had to work on a satin slip which had gores on each side (triangular pieces to shape them). The machine was cutting as it went along and to my horror, while I was machining, the back of the slip became caught and was cut all the way down. The guvnor, a German man, came over to me and started to scream,
“Ach, zo vas,schreklisha mensch! You will have to pay for the damage”
I was crying and all the girls took pity on me and held a raffle which paid for the petticoat.
After that episode, it didn’t take me too long before I became experienced, and I was earning good money - £2 10 shillings a week at 14½ years old. Not bad! I gave my grandma £1 - that paid for her rent, 10 shillings for my food, and the other £1 was divided between cigarettes (10 shillings for 20), some went towards saving for clothes, and 6 pence for a dance. So it was great. That £1 went a long way!
I was now 15 years old, and during this time I didn’t see much of Marie. She was studying at school and I was working. In the evenings I joined the Brady Street Youth Club, in Whitechapel. I always loved the stage and I used to do lots of impressions. One day the club had a “Do As You Please” competition at the Rivoli Picture House in Whitechapel (it’s now a mosque). There was a film show on Friday night and the competition was after the show.
There were quite a lot of entrants and there was a process of elimination. I did impressions of The Dead End Boys, Martha Raye, Peter Lorre and I went under the name of Betty Mann. I appeared week after week and every one of my family came to see me. In the final there were six competitors left, and I came second! I won a guinea perm (which I sold for 10 shillings!).
After that, a Jewish man came backstage and picked three of us out to do cabaret. We did weddings, bar-mitzvahs and school parties. It went on for quite some time and I earned two guineas a time. There was a shimmy dancer, a singer and me. I loved it, but when they wanted us to go up north and work the clubs, my grandmother threw out a few curses at me and told me only prostitutes go up north!
Meanwhile I was still working, and in the evenings I went to Brady Street Club and joined the Gilbert and Sullivan Opera Company. I did “Trial by Jury” and was the bridegroom. I memorised everyone’s part and it was good fun.
I’d been working at Moschi’s factory for a couple of years. Opposite our factory, in a very narrow street, was a tailoring factory, whose windows overlooked ours. We used to hold up French knickers to the boys and they whistled and laughed. One day, I was making long night-gowns. I put one on, put a ribbon around my hair and forehead and stuck one of the cleaning machines brushes into the ribbon at the back of my head. I walked up and down in front of the window whooping an Indian war cry. Whoo! Whoo! Whoo! Suddenly the machines became quiet. The power was switched off and the guvnor was behind me, screaming out,
“Out. Get out! You are sacked, fired. You are ruining my business!”
You can imagine how I felt. Dead. I walked around the street looking for another job right away, but to no avail. After two days I got a letter from my guvnor asking me to come back as a big contract for a well known store had come through. I was so happy. I got my job back!
Meanwhile, my mother, God rest her soul, had found a job as a housekeeper to a doctor in Epsom. She lived in and liked the job, although it was hard. They hated the Jews so my mother told them she was German (speaking Yiddish now and then!) and she cooked all the lovely Yiddisha meals. They licked the plates and asked for more chicken soup and knadels, and chopped liver! I only saw my dear mother once a month.
By this time I was 16½ years old, and sometimes on weekends I used to go to stay with my Auntie Ada and her family. She lived in Sutton, Surrey, and times were hard for her with children at school. One son, Jackie was killed on manoeuvres on the Isle of Wight. He volunteered for the army before the war and I really loved that boy - he was a darling. Then there was Beattie (now known as Bobbie). She was a lovely girl, blonde hair and blue eyes. She had to do all the housework as her mother and older sister Kitty were both out at work. Then there was Sammy, who was my age. He worked as a car mechanic.
I really loved the atmosphere there. My mother used to visit them at weekends when I was there and we all mucked in, slleping one up, one down, my feet in my cousin’s face and vice versa.
My other cousin David I saw little of. He was training to be a steward, but one time when he was home and I was there, he made us all sit at the table and he waited on us to show us his prowess. He was handsome and looked like Paul Newman (except Paul Newman wasn’t around then!). He went to the USA and worked hard, becoming a Captain in the US Army and we still see each other even now.
I was now nearly 17 years old and thought myself so worldly. My Auntie Sadie was my mother’s young sister. She was really beautiful, modern and had naturally auburn hair. She was always singing in a beautiful voice, so vibrant and she loved me, taking me under her wing. She was married to Harry and had two children, Norman and Pearlie (now know as Lesly), who was three years younger than me. She was still at school and was very studious and always with her head in a book. She’d often walk around us as though reliving the books she had read. My aunt lived in a huge flat above a large shop in Whitechapel Road, so from work in Aldgate I’d often pop in to Auntie Sadie’s on the way to the Brady Street Club. She always had a nice meal ready for me and told me not to worry much about things that hurt me, but live and try to enjoy life.
I still saw my darling friend Marie and her family, but a couple of her brothers had married and moved away. People were concerned about Hitler and all that was going on in Europe. It was a very worrying time for all of us.
I was worried about my grandparents and Phoebe. What will happen if war comes? How will they carry on? The Blackshirts were going around the streets starting on the Jews in the East End and it was a bad time to be living here.
Aunt Sadie wasn’t having a good life with her husband. He was a very serious man and they both got married too young, I think she was about 16½ when she married Harry. He was running around with other women and she was rather smitten by a man who would not leave her alone, so eventually the marriage split up and they went off with their various friends. I missed Aunt Sadie so much. Aunt Sadie had custody of the children for some time, but when war broke out, Norman went to live with his father and Lesly, volunteered for the WAAFS (Women’s Auxiliary Air Force).
My Aunt Etty was another young sister of my mother’s. She was rather frail and was married to my Uncle Hymie, who was always sick and smoked about 60 cigarettes a day and drank like a fish. My aunt always wanted to go to the USA for a holiday, and when my Aunt Lily came over from there, she wanted Auntie Etty to go back with her. Etty’s cry was,
“How can I lift my backside to go to America? I’ve got a sick husband to look after!”
(To bring you up to date - my Aunt died years ago from cancer and my uncle is now 99 years old and running around in an old people’s home!)
They had two children, Paula a Marcia and I used to see them quite often. The family ran a snooker and billiard hall. My aunt worked so hard, day and night and my uncle, although he worked too, was always in the pub with the boys from the club.
I enjoyed visiting my aunts because they always made a fuss of me. Let’s face it, I was the one looking after their old parents and sister Phoebe! After a style! My grandparents in my eyes were so old, in fact, I never remember them ever being young.
I was now nearly 17½ years old and was working in Shoreditch, which was nearer home, still making underwear. I used to get up at 6.30 in the morning, my Booba waited on me hand and foot, and my breakfast was always ready for me. All we had was a large mug of tea and two thick slices of bread and butter with jam. (I guess they would call that a continental breakfast now!).
Aunty Phoebe would do all the housework and the chores, including washing my smalls - she was wonderful. She always had a smile for me and said,
“I love you Bettala”.
I had to leave early because I took the workman’s tram. If you took the tram before 8am it cost only one old penny for a return fare to Shoreditch. If you got on after 8am, it cost double, so everyone arrived early on the workman’s tram.
I stopped going to the Brady Club because it was a bus ride from where I worked, so I used to come home, pop round to Marie, and at weekends we used to go dancing. I loved dancing; it was my whole life.
When I went to the Astoria in Charing Cross Road in the West End, I thought I was in Heaven. It used to cost a shilling and I never wanted to go home - to me, it was all I ever wanted to do, even die there.
I was very naïve then. If a boy wanted to take me home I was terrified because my grandmother told me that if a boy came near me I would have a baby. I soon learned otherwise but it was instilled in me to such an extent that I was scared. One day I met a nice boy who was a cousin of a friend of mine. He took me home from a dance and I asked him to come inside. My grandparents were waiting up for me. He asked me where my parents were and remarked that I was really very poor and that he was looking for a rich girl. I looked at him as though he was crazy and in no uncertain terms I told him to ‘piss off’!
War was now imminent and lots of people I knew were leaving London. Marie and her lovely family moved to Reading and I missed them so much. Part of my childhood went with them and I cried a river.
War! I was 18 years and 4 months old. Children were being evacuated into the country and I cried. I wished I had been 13 years old and could go with them. My grandparents could have gone too with Phoebe, but being old they wanted to stay where they were. My grandfather was a fatalist. He always said,
I’ll stay here. If they bomb me, so be it!”
My Aunt Ada signed on to be an air raid warden and my cousin Sammy (who since died of cancer) went into the Royal Air Force. He was 18½ years old. They still lived in Sutton, and about three train stops away was a large ammunitions factory in Hackbridge. My cousin Kitty, who was six years older than me went to work there. She rather liked it and told my mother about it. So my mother left her job in Epsom and went to work there too. My mother’s work was a night shift, spraying tanks and army cars and Kitty worked with her. Bobbie was an ambulance helper, later becoming a driver when she was 17.
Sooner or later I knew I would be called up for war work, so my mother called my Aunt Ada, who said,
“Come and live with us, and work in the plant.”
I told my Booba and Zeida and they knew that I had to go. They were content in the knowledge that at least I would be with family and not strangers. I sent money each week to my grandparents and kept in touch, and so I went to work in an ammunitions factory.
Before I had got that job, the bombs continued to drop and I still made the most of life. I worked a few days a week and one day I went to the park with my friend Blanche, an old schoolfriend of Marie.
It was a Jewish holiday and we had nothing to do, so we sat around and I smoked, but each time I lit a cigarette the match went out and I started to swear. Suddenly I saw three Yiddisha fellows sitting nearby, so I called out,
“Anyone got a match?”
The boys came over to us and I looked at Nat. He was a dark haired slim fellow and looked rather serious.
He said, “I don’t smoke, but my friends do.”
So his friend gave me a light and we had a chat and that was that.
The following week Blanche and I came out of the Dalston Cinema and who do you think are following us? Nat and his friend Harry. Nat saw me home and Harry took Blanche home. Nat came to my door and I asked him to come in to meet my grandparents. He was so friendly and kind and I asked him what he did for work. He told me he was a London Taxi driver, but that he didn’t know what was going to happen because of the war. He asked me to go out on a date with him and I went to the films and he bought me a box of chocolates. I thought, my, I’ve got a rich man here!
We kept in touch, but I soon had to go to Hackbridge to the ammunitions factory. Nevertheless, Nat used to visit us and he met all my family. He was good hearted and took pity on me because I really had no money at all, as I gave to my grandparents and some money to my Aunty for my keep. I simply loved Nat for loving me.
Meanwhile I used to pop down in between air raids to see my old folks as I worked night shifts at the time. I had to laugh one time. My Aunt Lily often sent them food parcels from the States. Once she sent a huge package containing 400 tea bags. My grandmother made Phoebe open every bag and put the tea into a tea caddy. We didn’t know what tea bags were then! Also there was barley and rice enclosed, but the bags had split, so Phoebe spent four days separating them. We had a good laugh over that episode, when laughs were few and far between in those days of constant bombings.
I continued to see Nat and I absolutely hated working in that factory. I had a terrible job, and I don’t know to this day what I was doing. I had to wear goggles and a protective overall and cut holes in brass parts to fit in a plane. The pieces of hot brass used to fly around and catch on my face and hands and I was always burnt.
During this time Nat was worried about conscription. They were calling up me now very quickly and before long, he received his papers. We were devastated. He was conscripted into the RASC (Royal Army Service Corps) and was trained for six weeks. He then had to drive ammunition trucks all over England to various army barracks.
Meanwhile I returned to Sutton and suffered once again at the plant. Nat came to see me when he got leave and was very unhappy. The Government were confiscating Black Cabs and using them to help the fire-fighters to get men and equipment through the blitz. I wanted to be with Nat, but it was impossible. I had met his mother and family and we decided to get engaged. This went on for a few months when one day he phoned to say he’d been issued with tropical kit and he might be shipped overseas. But fate plays all kinds of tricks and Nat developed mastoid in the middle ear. He’d always had trouble with his ears when he was a teenager, but now he became deaf in one ear. As a result, the army gave him a month’s leave and he got an honourable discharge - we were over the moon!
Nat said, “Look darling, let’s get married. What we got to lose? The war is now at its worst. People are getting killed all around us, so what are we waiting for? You’re 19 and I’m 26, let’s do it.”
So we had a small wedding for just the immediate family. Nat bought me my outfit: a very pale blue-grey dress, with burgundy accessories. I was walking on air. We had nowhere to live, but we didn’t care. We spent our honeymoon in Norfolk and had peaceful nights without having to get up for the air raids - heaven.
We came back to London and I was released from war work on compassionate grounds, as I had a husband who was sick. We found a tiny flat in Dalston, near to my grandparents - at least I could keep an eye on them.
Unfortunately I had a period just once after marriage, and then realised that I was pregnant. It was so quick. I knew nothing about married life, and certainly didn’t know how to have sex! Apparently the contraceptive broke and that’s how I became pregnant. At the time, I was glad, because at least I wouldn’t have to do any more war work.
Nat drove a cab twice a week and the bombs were coming down on us regularly now. Every night at 6pm the bombers came over, in droves. Nobody really slept through, yet we still had to get up for work each morning. Food was rationed and everyone had ration books, even the King and Queen! We had one egg a week, 1 ounce of cheese, ¼ ounce of butter and ¼ pound of meat. Potatoes and other vegetables weren’t rationed, so Nat’s brother-in-law Charlie used to take us to the country to buy onions and potatoes by the sack.
We struggled on and I was getting bigger. When I was seven months pregnant I had to be evacuated to the country to avoid the bombs and I was sent to a beautiful place called Paxton Park in Huntingdonshire. It was a stately home given over to the Government and about twenty young pregnant married women were there with me, where we all had to stay until our babies were born. Nat used to come up to visit every weekend. We used to go into the local town, St Neotts, where the country’s first quads were born in the 30s.
I was married 9 months and 3 weeks exactly when our son Michael was born. He was a beautiful baby with curly auburn hair. We brought him home, but we had nothing. The air raids were getting worse and Michael became a nervous wreck, with the noise of the bombs raining down upon us. We had a shelter in our garden, but that was cold and damp. Besides, it was freezing outside - Michael was born on 28 January and the snow was on the ground when we brought him home. I could have been evacuated with the baby, but Nat was now discharged from the army and I wanted to be with him. At night we used to sit Michael under the kitchen table in a Moses basket, while we sat in the cupboard away from the windows. How we lived through six years of war I shall never know. We lived from day to day, never sleeping properly and when we used to go out in the mornings and walk around the streets, we saw houses demolished just like packs of cards scattered all over.
It was now 1944 and the bombing was still bad. So much so that we had to sit under the dining room table at night. Every time the ack ack guns went off to deter the German planes, Michael used to jump with fear. We realised then it was time to get Michael evacuated to a country nursery. I had Nat with me, and couldn’t leave him, but we managed to get our son into a lovely nursery in Haselmere, Surrey. He was two years old and I cried so much when we had to leave him there, and Nat and I used to visit him every Sunday, bombs permitting.
From Waterloo Station to Haselmere we went, and took him out with us for the day and cried when we left him. He was there for 6 months until he was 2½ years old, and then, thank God, the war was over, and once again we were a family.
My mother stayed with my Aunt Ada and carried on working. Bobbie went into the Royal Air Force, Sammy went to Canada with the RAF and David was already in the States. Kitty was working in a big store so there was plenty of room for my mother and I visited her often.
My grandparents came through the war unscathed, she was still cursing and talking to me to give my grandfather messages whilst he was sitting in the same room. She was always broygiss (annoyed) with his without rhyme or reason.
Nat got his job back driving the cab and we got on with our lives. It was quite some time before rationing was abolished, food was more plentiful and none of us starved.
So, my dears, this is my life to the end of the war. I now live with Nat in a beautiful flat in a lovely residential home in millionaires row in Hampstead - they call it the Jewish Buckingham Palace! Our son Michael is now 55 years old and married to his second wife Natalie. Our two gorgeous grandchildren live near to us: Adele is nearly 30 and Barry is 32. They live in Barry’s house and are very happy. We also have an adopted grandson, Perry, who is married to Caroline and they are in Israel. Enjoy my story. Life goes on. Maybe one day I shall write about other experiences, but here I am at 76 years old, and Nat is now 83 and we have been married for 56 years - Hooray!
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