LIFE HISTORY 1915-1917

1915

MOVE TO HELSINKI

It must have been summer when we arrived in Helsinki on the train. I don’t recall anything about our trip, but when we stepped off the train I must have experienced some motion sickness. I heard pounding in my ears — it seems to have lasted for several days — and I felt so awful. I also had a hard time hearing anything.

Our first home must have been in Leppävaara, or Alberga as it was called in those days. I recall a white house and steep stairs, but nothing about what it was like there. I just remember how one beautiful summer day Mother took me by the hand and we walked to Kauppatori (Farmer’s Market). In spite of our destination we took a detour by Hietalahti Tori and around Sinebrykoff’s corner. Right along there the paving stones were wonderfully warm under my little feet and the trees seemed enormous. On that corner we must have stepped on a trolley car but no recollection of that incident has stayed with me. I just recall that moment when the paving stones were so hot under my bare feet, and how green and enormous the trees along the Boulevard seber a sandy walkway and lots of trees — it was almost like a park.

During that same summer we then moved to Tokankatu 7. We soon got used to it, and I can even begin to recall some incidents from those days. I remember how one beautiful seemed.

1916

It is very difficult to pinpoint the exact date for the following incident, but it may very well have been in 1916 [I was about 5 years old]. It so happened that one summer day I started walking along Tokankatu to the next corner towards Hietalahti, then walked along some stone stairs which led to the railroad tracks below. Near our home the tracks traveled along a deep gash cut in the cliffs, and here the tracks had walls built of cut stone blocks. On either side of the tracks there also were ditches made of the same stone blocks so the ditches were quite symmetrical and straight-sided. Suddenly I got it into my head that I wanted to jump down into the bottom of the ditch — what my motivation was I can’t recall — I probably didn't know the reason myself at the time.

I had decided in my mind how I was going to accomplish that jump, but when I got to the edge I saw a broken bottle at the bottom of the ditch. However, I could no longer give my brain a different command and so I jumped. It was as if someone had paralyzed my reasoning ability and literally pushed me into that ditch. You can guess the result: I jumped right on top of the broken glass. It’s still painful to recall that moment. Of course it hurt, and the blood poured. I started crawling toward home, and I guess my screams could be heard a mile away because Mother hurried out into the yard and kept my feet under the water spigot (there was only that one outside faucet from which we got our water) and rinsed them off. And I guess it was all better after that because I don’t have any other dreadful memories of that incident. But even to this day if one of my feet gets into a certain position, the tendons in the bottoms of my feet — especially the right one — can really experience a sharp stab of pain. There has been no lasting debilitating effects from all this, so I guess my feet healed to their original condition.

I assume that I had some friends by this time, but I can’t recall any. I think I played alone a lot and many incidents happened to me alone — there was no one to share them with me. I started school in the fall on 1916 — at the Punavuorikatu Elementary School — and my teacher was Mrs. Dahlberg. She was a very stern woman who instilled the fear of God in us. And if we didn’t obey the first time we got rapped across the knuckles with a ruler. I suppose we truly learned something there, because I was only eight years old when I read the Bible through for the first time. It happened to be the only book we had at home so I guess that was the natural place to start. There was lots of time for reading because Mother was ill and was confined to St. Mary’s Hospital on several occasions — she had tuberculosis.

We got electricity by the way sometime in 1916 — one bare bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling. But it truly made reading so much easier and the evenings passed by very handily. Of course, whenever we cared to do so, we could go to the reading room on Tehtaankatu across from the Fazer candy factory. There we looked through all of the weekly newspapers and magazines of which Allers and the Hemmets Journal were the most interesting because they contained comic strips. I recall the many evenings, some of them rainy, others bitterly cold, which we spent as a group looking at pictures. Was I already able to read at that time? Maybe, maybe not, but I do know I wasn’t able to read Swedish at least at that time — or even understand it. But it was cozy and warm in the reading room, and the time went by very pleasantly.

I guess by this time I already had some friends: Manne Satola, Jaakko Hautala whose father was a cobbler, and then Jori Tirkkonen who was part of the upper crust. His father had a forge in the back of his yard, and was married to a Swedish woman who was as much above us as the sky is above the earth. And Jori was the same sort, at least that’s what it seemed like, because between us there never developed any kind of a close friendship. Also distant remained Manne’s brother, Toivo, whom we called Hono. Most people didn’t even know that he had any other name. He was several years older than the rest of us. I guess that was the reason why he had other interests.

1917

These incidents are getting recorded in a very haphazard order, but when I eventually get them recorded as I recall them, I guess I will someday get them into a chronological order. The years 1916 and 1917 were very difficult ones for us boys. Mother was often in the hospital and when she was at home, she had very little strength to do anything. Father worked as a quarryman building stone fortifications in Haaga and Grankulla — I hope to obtain a map from those days and some more recent ones too so I can recall the places and even the names. In my travels in later years I happened upon these same fortifications which were cut into the cliffs, but never spent much time exploring them more closely.

I do recall the time when Father whittled himself a pair of skis and traveled between those places and home. One time he was very late returning. It was freezing cold and an east wind was against him. He was frost bitten in several places including his cheeks. But he came home in spite of it — he was one tough guy!

I guess we had babysitters and caregivers even during this time when Mother wasn’t home to look after us. I don’t have too many memories of those days, but do have memories of those who looked after us later on during these exceedingly trying times.

It’s unfortunate that we don’t have very many pictures of Mother. I remember one photo where she was with both of her sisters: Margareta and Tilda. Mother was still living at that time and I don’t think I was in school yet — of course not, since I was still at home all day long. Mother was busy with whatever she was doing and I got hold of that unfortunate photo. I guess I was always experimenting with one thing or other, and if I didn’t find anything constructive to do I got into mischief. I had that photo in one hand and somewhere got hold of a darning needle with the other. With it I poked holes through the eyes on all the girls. And when Mother discovered what I had done, I got such a whipping that I will always remember it. I haven’t poked out anyone’s eyes since then, not even in pictures. I recall that same photo at Karstulantie when I was attending the lyceum. But what happened to it after that I have no idea. I didn’t get any photos from Aunt Tilda either when I wrote to my cousin a few years ago. [Copies of these family photos were found later on during a trip to Finland. - mltr]

It would be so interesting to know if I would recognize Mother right away, even though I can’t bring back any recollection of her face at this time. At least I should recognize her eyes if they would ever appear before me, either in a picture or in real life. I know for a certainty that I have gazed on them many times — especially during the time when I was her only child. Because later on of course my younger brothers got most of her attention since I was already older and could take care of myself. I do remember that she never raised her voice.

One incident especially that occurred while we lived at Tokankatu has stayed with me. We had a table in the middle of the room and were all sitting around it eating. Father cut a loaf of bread and placed it back on the table upside down. Mother took the loaf and turned it right side up, Father in his turn upside down. This happened two or three times, and we boys thought it was some kind of a game and I remember laughing out loud. Father won the battle. Mother never said a word during this whole time. She was tender and quiet — I wonder which of us was the most like her?

Speaking of bread, I guess it was the summer of 1917 when I went inside from playing and hung around for something to eat. Mother cut me a thick slice of rye bread and covered it with a thick layer of butter. I went outside and took a couple of little bites out of it and — threw it down into the sewage pit! Afterwards I was somewhat afraid and apprehensive, because I had been taught to reverence our daily bread. I wondered to myself what kind of a punishment I was going to receive, and had no idea that within only a few months bread would become more precious than gold. I received my punishment so swiftly that this lesson has never left me [rt. Workers Strike, Nov. 18, 18917 was the beginning of the 1918 Civil War in Finland]. I feel like telling the people in this country that, ‘take care you don’t rue the day you throw things away so thoughtlessly.’ If the bread is even a day old it is worthless to the "cake-eaters" here in this country. But I firmly believe that they will get their punishment just as I got mine. I got through it just barely with my life, so I guess I will survive the next round also if need be. But never after that have I thrown away bread — not even a piece that is moldy.

Our apartment was at the end of the yard in portal E — I can’t recall the room number. The building has been long since pulled down, but at least I still remember the place where it was located. On the neighboring lot — that is to the west and across from Punavuori corner — around 1920 a seven-story factory building was constructed there - called Kaapelitehdas [Cable Factory]. Our little housing complex, which was a one-story structure built on top of a basement where the woodsheds were located, was like a midget between two tall buildings, because to the East on the next block was the Fazer Candy Factory, as I mentioned previously. The buildings were tall but we were able to reach to the topmost floors. This of course took place after the war when dry goods were available once again. We went to the drugstore and bought surgical rubber tubing, and with this we constructed very strong slingshots. On the other side of the street and over the railroad tracks was the Finnish Shipyards and harbor, and we sneaked in there and found round pieces of steel which were about one centimeter in diameter and three millimeters thick. These were left over when holes for rivets were cut into sheets of steel. There isn’t a better type of ammunition in the world for slingshots that this. Soon we were such skilled shooters that we broke windows only on the seventh floor. Well, be that as it may, I don’t think we did this little caper more than two or three times. We really deserved a good whipping, but who was there to counsel us or keep us in line.

Lets return for another moment to our housing complex. As was said, no one had indoor water, but water had to be obtained from a common outside ‘water post.’ It was the same with toilets — I can’t recall if we had one or several of them at the back of the lot, but it was an honest-to-goodness outhouse. This was the same building where the Tirkkosen’s forge was on one end on the second level, and where they also had a three- or four room suite — in other words they were gentry! In the building on the side of Pursimiehenkatu housed the Salvation Army, and in their basement they had a firewood shop. In the same building lived the Seitolas. On the north end of this lot was the building where we lived in the back or rather west end. In the middle portal lived the Hautala family, but as I recall they lived on the first floor, so right in this spot the building had two levels. On the back of this building was the firelane which was about 3 meters (10 feet) wide, and a fence separated our lot from the next lot which was the corner building on Pursimiehen– and Perämiehenkatu. And right on the corner and of course on the street side was the dry goods store from where we usually bought our food items. A little bit further up the street along Perämiehenkatu on the northside was the dairy shop, and the reading room was attached to it.

As I previously mentioned, a part of the forge was upstairs and some wooden, outside stairs led up to it. The porch was supported by round, smooth wooden pillars, and it was our custom to play tag and other games around this area. We got down to the ground by sliding down the poles. Once it happened to me that I was in such a hurry to get slide down that I forgot to grab hold of the pole and fell straight down to the ground below. Did that ever hurt! In front of the forge there was an anvil the likes of which I have never seen anywhere else. It was about six inches thick or about 15 centimeters. The length of it was about a meter (3 feet) and the width about 40 centimeters. It was supported on sturdy wooden pilings and they had to be so because it must have weighed at least 500 kilos. Well, be that as it may, I crawled my way to it and maybe the other boys helped me to get on top of it. There I lay sprawled on top of it as if nearly dead, and eventually the pain finally abated. It was quite a crash, and it happened sometime around 1916 or 1917, because by then I was already in school.

What else can recall from my days at elementary school on Punavuorenkatu? My first year in school must have been pretty uneventful since I have really no memories about it. I recall that in each set of desks there was paired up a boy and a girl, and not just either boys or girls. I must have had a really wonderful young lady as my partner, because her shy sweet smile lingers in my memory to this day. I was one of those most wretched of the wretched for there was no mother at home and a father only occasionally. This was in the fall of 1917 when Mother was in the hospital [l. Marian Sairaala], and she never returned home from there.

We boys — at least Veikko and I — slept on the floor as was our custom. There were a few rags under us and even a makeshift blanket of some sort to cover us, but I can recall how cold it was at least to begin with. For some reason I went through a period of time when I wet the bed, and since there were no other clothes to change in to I was often soaked from the neck down when I went to school. I can guess how difficult it must have been for this sweet young lady to sit next to me, but she just smiled shyly and sweetly and said nothing. I also smiled in return and didn’t say anything, but I understood very clearly how unpleasant it was for her to sit by me, because my situation was just as unpleasant for me too. I will always think of her as my dear friend. I can’t even recall her name, but it doesn’t matter because she will always epitomize the highest feminine ideal for me. It’s remarkable that she could smile in spite of everything at me, the most wretched of the wretched!

The school house was two stories — a wooden structure. It had a huge graveled yard, and large trees which gave wonderful shade during the hot days. It was a lot of fun to run around them playing tag and other sorts of games we used to play in those days. I can’t remember much about those days, because much more serious matters were occupying my attention at the time.

We had a maid at that time named Riika. All food was on ration cards and you had to stand in line to get any. Bread was the most important of course — it had a lot of flax mixed in with the rye. And I guess we got a piece of bread now and then, but Veikko and I had to get out of the house each morning and go earn our own nourishment. We had to go begging, but on most days we went to the Hietalahti harbor where there were Russian freighters. The sailors were kind-hearted and nearly every day we received some cabbages soup into our bowls, and sometimes even a piece of bread. Going to the harbor became a daily habit, because I recall that we even had Voitto with us on occasion. He was four years old at the time and we should have kept an eye on him every minute. But when I had to keep both eyes open and find some food for myself and two little brothers, it happened one day that my attention strayed and Voitto fell into one of the Hietalahti harbor canals. What howling and screaming then started, because we were all still at the age that none of us knew how to swim. And even if we had known how, which of us would have been able to climb out of that deep canal since the water was about 6 feet below the level of the dock? On top of it all the dock was made out of cut rock — there weren’t even any support pillars on which one could have climbed back up. There were about fifty of us children — all about the same age — all starving with hunger. That would have been the end of Voitto — but one of the Russian sailors heard our screams and came to our rescue, jumping immediately into the water and pulling Voitto up out of there — the sailor was fortunately also able to climb out. I can’t remember if he had some help but I believe so, because he would never have been able to climb back up by himself.

In my mind’s eye I can still recall that scene: we children standing around wondering what to do — as I remember there was even some woman standing there too — Voitto in the water in the corner of the harbor canal — on the seaside the merchant ships anchored with their afts toward the docks and wooden stairs rising up at the back of each ship. The dock was about 15 yards wide and through the middle of it was laid some railroad tracks. About one hundred yards away was a draw bridge which usually was in place, but it was drawn up when the islanders came in with their loads they were bringing to the market. Behind us as I had mentioned before was that deep cut in the mountain side along which the railroad tracks came — on the left was that part of Tokankatu where we lived — and on the other side was a somewhat steeper hill on which was located the gate to the harbor. The harbor area was surrounded by a high wooden fence but, right where the railroad tracks came out of the deep cut in the cliffs, the surrounding landscape flattened out to the level of the tracks and this final turn of the tracks ended at the edge of the harbor itself. One could look past this end of the fence and see to the harbor and that was where we usually entered the harbor area to look around, if there wasn’t a clear entry through the gate. Often we were driven away from the gate, but if we had something really important to do at the harbor such as collecting some pieces of steel for our slings, we would sneak around the end of the fence. Well, to get back to my story, Voitto was not much worse for his adventure other than being wet to the skin. I guess there weren’t any other consequences from this incident.

During that same fall we were climbing one time along the cliffs at Ursini beach. It must have been somewhat earlier in the season — it may even have been summer still because those smooth boulders on the Ursini shoreline were hot under our bare feet. We were having a lot of fun — all three of us brothers were there, and there might have been some other boys with us also. The women were doing their washing on the rocks by the shore and sunning themselves. And we boys were jumping around like little magpies. All of a sudden little Voitto started rolling down the rocks and rolled right into the water. The women were all upset, but one of them had the presence of mind to grab Voitto by his bare legs and lifted the little lad back on dry land. I guess we were sent home, but the warm sun would have soon dried the scant articles of clothing that poor children could afford to wear. I’m certain they weren’t weighed down by too much clothing or spoiled by style.There is a picture of us boys — a summer photo from 1916. Our clothing was pretty basic.

Translated from the original Finnish: Marja-Leena Tolvanen-Rogers