Vienna past and present
Sarah Ebner makes a moving family visit to the Austrian capital, exploring the darker history among the city’s beautiful streets
Watching my son as he was blessed by the Rabbi at the Vienna City Temple was extremely moving. It was Friday evening and this was his first visit to the city where his grandfather was born — and had been forced to leave, aged just two, in 1939.
And now, here we were, in a thriving synagogue, with a congregation singing the songs that we recognised from home, and reclaiming their heritage.
Vienna is, of course, suffused with Jewish memories. Before the Second World War, it was home to the third largest Jewish congregation in Europe, among them, several members of my family. Before 1939 there were 185,000 Jews in the city. Today there are around 10,000.
Around 65,000 Viennese Jews died in the Holocaust; many others — including my father and his parents — were fortunate enough to leave. It is a beautiful city with a dark past. But in recent years at least, it seems to be coming to terms with that.
This shul was the only one that survived the pogrom of Kristallnacht in 1938, mainly because it is attached to a number of other buildings, so could not Looking out onto Vienna’s Heldenplatz and museums (top) and the Whiteread Memorial (above) reminding visitors that behind the elegant architecture lies an often darker history be destroyed without damaging them too.
The elegant building fits perfectly into this beautiful city. This was once the capital of a huge empire and that’s shown in the architecture. It is an utter treat to walk around.
My trip was a particularly special one. Before each of their bar or batmitzvahs, my parents took my daughter, nieces and nephews to find out more about the Austrian side of their family. My mother died last year, so this trip consisted of me, my father Henry, and my son.
We began with a walking tour which took in some general history, excellent views and also the Whiteread Memorial to the Holocaust, and the Monument Against War and Fascism, which is located just behind the opera house. The Whiteread Memorial stands by the Jewish Museum on Judenplatz and is remarkable. It is 10 by seven metres and almost four metres high. The names of the camps where thousands of Austrian Jews were killed are inscribed on the ground around the memorial.
We walked to the synagogue late in the afternoon and were given an El Al style grilling at the entrance — all quite understandable, even though we had told them in advance that we were coming.
It was quite surreal listening to a service in Hebrew
and German, not to mention reading a siddur with no English in it. But it was rather special too, especially as the synagogue was full for a batmitzvah celebration.
Alef Alef, a kosher restaurant, is only a few minutes away by foot, and we sat down to a feast — complete with gefilte fish, chicken soup and chicken schnitzel.
Our time in Vienna was a mixture of past and present. We loved our trip to the wonderful Haus der Musik, where you can conduct the Vienna Philharmonic (at least virtually) and create your own tunes, and we also indulged in the delightful hot chocolate and cakes at Demel coffee shop and the fluffy Kaiserschmarrn chopped pancakes at Café Mozart.
My son particularly enjoyed visiting the (very touristy!) Time Travel with its waxworks of the Austrian royal family and two rides, as well as our trip to the famous Ferris wheel at the Prater (a theme park which also offers a variety of other rides). He also loved our trip around the city in a horse and carriage and the kids’ audio tour at the very grand Schönbrunn Palace, the former summer residence of the imperial family.
We stayed in the most fantastic location. The Hotel Royal is a four-star hotel situated literally two minutes from the famous Stefansdom. It’s around 10 to 15 minutes walk to the shul, and also right by a taxi rank, next to a delicious coffee house (the Aida) and opposite a supermarket. Plus it has its own Italian restaurant and is extraordinarily quiet.
You have to go to the opera if you’re in Vienna, and we thoroughly enjoyed watching The Circus Princess, the light operetta we saw at the Volksoper. Luckily there were English surtitles which meant we could understand all that was happening on stage.
So much for the present. Our trip also included many nods to the past. We visited the DOW, the Documentation Centre of Austrian Resistance, which is definitely worth a look around. It has a permanent exhibition documenting the crimes of National Socialism and includes important material about rightwing extremism and racism in Austria. It also has a database of the Austrian Jews murdered by the Nazis.
The small permanent exhibition is fascinating – not least the voting slip which took place after the Anschluss (when German troops entered the country in March 1938). Jews weren’t allowed to vote in the subsequent plebiscite, but the voting card on display clearly shows that a “Ja”, rather than “nein” was expected, thanks to its much larger and prominent circle on the ballot.
We were also glad to see the Jewish Museum on Judenplatz which has the remains of the medieval synagogue (built underneath the Whiteread memorial). There we found out about Jewish life in Vienna in medieval times, at least before the Jews were expelled and murdered in 1421.
I found the other Jewish museum, in Dorotheegasse, even more interesting but also terribly sad. It started its new permanent exhibition “Our City! Jewish Vienna Then to Now” in 2013 and if you haven’t been to the city since then, it really is a mustsee. This is an honest look at the story of Viennese
PUBLISHING A novel and sending it out into the world is like launching a boat and pushing it gently out to sea. Having a book adapted for the stage is more like watching a child grow up and leave home; at times an agonising process of letting go and trusting that the playwright, director and actors can create a piece the author can live with.
My novel, Hidden, tells the story of two teenagers who pull an asylum seeker out of the sea and hide him to save him from being deported. It was longlisted for the Carnegie Medal and called,
“a book to counter bigotry,” by the Sunday Times. Recent horrific scenes of refugees drowning at sea have meant a huge surge of interest in my book and it is often a recommended read on the subject.
Hidden was published in
America last year and now, in the Trump era, American teens tell me how the book inspires them. “I hope in the future our world will have more tolerance and acceptance to other people around them,” wrote one Muslim student.
Last year, Hidden was optioned for the stage by director/producer, Stuart Mullins, who told me, “You’ve got a hot piece of property there, Miriam.” Stuart has many years of experience making theatre for young audiences. His vision was to tour the adaptation of Hidden with three professional actors to schools, community centres and small theatres, challenging perceived notions about asylum seekers in the UK today. “This is not a commercial proposal,” he told me. “This is an educational project.” Rebecca Hayes Laughton, producer, has joined the project and playwright Vickie Donoghue, (Mudlarks) was commissioned to write the script.
But what about the agony of handing over my book? At one point in discussion with the playwright, I blurted out: “Oh no! Alix (my main character) would never say that!” I felt guilty all the way home for being too possessive. Walking the line between author, playwright and producer felt like a balancing on a tightrope. Who would fall first?
Then I had a moment of clarity thanks to the film of the book,
Denial, about the Holocaust denial libel case in the British High Court between David Irving and Deborah Lipstadt. David Hare wrote the script. I read the book the week before . Watching the film I kept thinking about what Hare had left out — huge swathes of the book. Yet it was all there, a distillation of the essence of the book and the case. It was a definite light-bulb moment.
Essentially, I told myself, my Alix is still my Alix but she will not be the playwright’s Alix. Then the actress will add a whole new layer of interpretation when she assumes the role of Alix. Finally, the audience will have their own responses to my story when they watch the play. Each interpretation, if the work has been done to the highest integrity, will be a valid and essential Alix and a valid and essential interpretation of Hidden.
I will hear the play for the first time next week in a rehearsed reading. During this amazing process, I have learned to let go of my book, and to have deep trust in the director and the playwright. I feel certain that we will all be proud of our final piece of theatre. My book will be out there and speaking to an entirely new audience. I couldn’t be more delighted.