Julia walked home from work, a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. She had spring fever from the balmy March air and she was giddy from the glass of champagne she’d drunk at the office party the Chronicle had given in her honor. No one had been happier than Julia herself to toast the two thousandth appearance of “Citywatch” by Julia Marks-Wakefield. And wait until I tell Ted about my next assignment!
Although the Great Depression had brought unemployment to many, even to Ted for a brief period, Julia’s position at the Chronicle had remained secure. In fact, her career had grown by leaps and bounds; her bold investigating and compelling style made “Citywatch” the most-read column in the newspaper. It was Julia who had exposed the shifty dealings of the banks and Federal Reserve Board prior to the fateful stock market crash of 1929; Julia who had ventured alone into the unsavory part of the city where homeless, jobless people lived in pathetic shelters constructed from scraps of wood and cardboard boxes, so she could tell the “Hooverville” residents’ story in their own moving words.
Thank goodness for Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Julia reflected. The Depression was passing, slowly but surely. Ted now worked for the Works Progress Administration overseeing a WPA music program that offered classes and free concerts for the public. He loved the job, not least because he loved being able to give work to his many down-on-their-luck musician friends.
He’ll be so happy for me, Julia thought, running up the steps of the brownstone. And Robert will be, too!
She draped her coat on the banister and tracked the voices into the kitchen. Nine-year-old Robert was helping his father peel potatoes. “Hello, boys!” Julia sang, tousling her son’s brown hair. What kind of culinary magic are you conjuring up tonight?”
Ted grinned. “Something pretty fancy. Mashed potatoes and meat loaf.”
“Now, I wonder who selected that menu?” Julia tickled Robert. “We’d eat that every night if it were up to you, right, kiddo?”
Robert’s dark eyes crinkled with laughter as he twisted away from his mother’s hands. “Right, Mom.”
“You’re in a good mood,” Ted observed.
“I am, and I’ll tell you why.” Removing the peeler from Ted’s hand, Julia took his arms and placed them around her waist. “Guess who’s been offered the reporting assignment of a lifetime?”
Ted pretended to ponder the question. “Let’s see... could it be Julia Marks-Wakefield?”
“Of course it could be! Oh, Ted, you won’t believe it. The Chronicle wants to send me to Germany!”
“Germany?”
“Where’s that?” asked Robert.
“It’s in Europe,” Julia told her son. “And I’ll explain all about it in a moment. Germany, Ted—just think of it!” She gazed up at him, her eyes glittering with excitement. “I would observe the Nazi government and its führer, Adolf Hitler, in action.”
Ted squeezed her. “It’s the foreign assignment you’ve been waiting for.”
“Isn’t it a thrill? And Ted, if I do well,” Julia continued, her tone suddenly solemn, “I’ll probably be offered the foreign-correspondent position in Berlin.”
As she had expected, this angle took Ted’s breath away. His arms dropping, he sat down abruptly on one of the stools by the counter. “Berlin,” he said simply. “Julia.”
“I won’t be committing myself to anything long-term if I take just the one trip,” she hurried to say. “We’ll have time to talk it over. I wouldn’t accept any offer, no matter how tempting, without being sure that it was the right thing for us all.”
“It will be hard for me and Robert to lose you, even for a short time,” Ted told her.
“I know.” Julia took her husband’s hand. With her other hand, she reached for her son. “It will be hard for me to go away from you, too. But, Ted, it’s so important that I go.” Her voice grew passionate. “The situation in Europe is explosive. Hitler is rearming his country. I’m determined to see for myself how far Hitler has taken his anti-Semitic theories. Ted, this could be the big one! The story I’ve been looking forever since those early days in Oregon.”
Ted had been watching his wife carefully as she spoke. Now he put a hand on either side of Julia’s flushed, pretty face. “Of course you have to go. For yourself and for all of us. The story is what matters.”
“Thank you, Ted,” Julia whispered.
Robert was tugging at the sleeve of her silk blouse. Julia looked down into his wide, apprehensive eyes. “Germany’s faraway, isn’t it, Mom?” he said, trying to sound brave.
Kneeling, Julia hugged her son reassuringly. “It is indeed. But I’ll be back soon, and I’ll write you every day. I’ll be back,” she repeated.
“Do you think she’s there yet?” Robert asked Ted as they ate dinner one evening in late March. Robert had selected the menu; once again it was meat loaf and mashed potatoes.
Ted looked across at his son. For some reason, the dining room table seemed big and empty without Julia sitting there between them. “She’ll be stepping off the boat in France any minute now,” he answered. “Then she’ll take a train to Germany. The countries are right next to each other—it won’t be a long trip.”
“I wish we could have gone with her, to take care of her.” Robert pushed a few peas around on his plate with his fork, his small forehead creased in a worried frown. “Those Germans are bad people, aren’t they?”
“I don’t think the German people are bad. But their führer is, and I’m afraid he’s leading the country in a dangerous direction.”
“When will we hear from her?”
Ted knew that for the young boy, each day his mother was gone felt like a year. For Ted, too, time had been passing much more slowly since Julia’s departure. “Soon,” he promised Robert. “She’ll telegraph us right after the Normandie docks. And then the letters will start coming.”
“They’ll be great,” Robert predicted confidently. “Mom can really write.”
Ted smiled at the note of pride in his son’s voice. “She sure can,” he agreed.
The letters came, and they were as lively and interesting as Ted and Robert expected. First, Julia wrote about the transatlantic passage on the Normandie, and then about the train journey to Berlin. In entertaining detail, she described the people she had met, the adventures she had had, the sights and sounds and smells of foreign places.
Reading Julia’s letters became a cherished ritual. One afternoon late in April, father and son fixed their usual snack of bread-and-jam sandwiches and hot tea. With great ceremony, Robert tore open the envelope and handed the letter to his father.
Ted cleared his throat and began to read. When he came to a difficult word or concept he would stop to explain it as best he could to Robert. This letter had many such difficulties; since she’d arrived in Germany, the content of Julia’s letters had grown more serious.
The atmosphere in Berlin is grim, Julia wrote. Each day, I witness or get word of additional Nazi atrocities. Anti-Semitism is widespread. Hitler plans to assert the dominion of the Aryan “master race” and to expand the German lebensraum—space for living—throughout Eastern Europe.
The news was indeed disturbing. Ted put down the letter for a moment to take a few bites of his sandwich.
“I don’t understand why Mom’s worried,” Robert said. “If the Germans just want a bigger living room...”
Ted smiled wryly at his son’s translation of the term lebensraum. “It’s more than just that. Here, I’ll read some more.”
Julia went on to report that the rest of Europe’s attitude toward Hitler was anxious but disbelieving. They still think he will become more moderate, but I don’t agree, she proclaimed in her bold, loopy script. The evidence is everywhere. The Nuremberg Laws forbid Germans to have commerce with or marry Jews. Jews are now classed as “subjects,” not “citizens,” of the nation and are denied many rights.
While they finished their sandwiches, Ted tried to remain cheerful in front of his son. But when Robert ran outside to play stickball with a friend, Ted reread the letter, his concern growing. He did not like to think of Julia in such a dangerous country, taking risks to acquire the information she needed to document her report. No, Ted thought, story or no story, he wouldn’t be at ease again until Julia wrote to tell them she was coming home.
In Julia’s next letter, she touched on many of the same issues detailed in her previous correspondence. But Ted was struck by something odd in her style. Instead of her usual directness, she was evasive, only hinting that she’d discovered something particularly horrifying. At the end of the letter, she explained her reticence. I fear the government censors, she wrote. It’s possible that my letters are being screened, so I must be discreet. They can’t censor this, however! I love you, Ted. I love you, Robert. And I’ll be home soon—details of my travel plans to follow!
The next letter arrived, the last letter, and in it Julia announced that she would soon be leaving Germany to travel home to the United States by airship. But that was the only information on the page that Ted could decipher—the letter had been heavily censored. He stared at the heavy black marks blotting out Julia’s words. What had she written that was so dangerous to the German authorities?
Ted and Robert circled May sixth, the date of Julia’s return, on the calendar. Finally, the day came, and they were on their way to Lakehurst, New Jersey, where the dirigible would dock and its passengers would disembark. On his lap, Robert held a fluffy white kitten with a blue bow around its neck, a welcome-home present for his mother; he himself wore a brand-new baseball cap.
They parked the car at the edge of a field and walked to where a small crowd had gathered to await the arrival of the Hindenburg. Robert could barely contain his excitement. “Is Mom really flying home on a giant balloon?” he asked.
From his jacket pocket, Ted removed a newspaper clipping with a photograph of the Hindenburg. He showed the picture to Robert. “It’s a giant balloon with a rigid frame,” Ted explained. “It’s filled with hydrogen, which is lighter than air. See?”
Robert examined the photograph. “And it can fly across the ocean?”
“Yep.” Ted tucked the clipping back into his pocket. “The Hindenburg has crossed the Atlantic more than twenty times. Look!” He pointed. In the distance, a long, cigar-shaped airship sailed into view. The Hindenburg!
Clapping, Robert jumped up and down. “Hi, Mom!” he yelled.
Ted laughed. “She can’t hear you yet.”
Holding their breath, they watched as the massive dirigible eased up to the landing tower. In just a few minutes, Julia would step out onto the platform. Ted’s heart pounded. He couldn’t wait to hold his wife in his arms again.
His eyes fixed on the airship, Ted thought he saw a flicker of something like lightning. An instant later, the Hindenburg was in flames!
There were cries and exclamations from the onlookers. “Dad, what’s wrong?” Robert cried, frightened.
Ted didn’t have time to answer his son’s question. Shoving Robert into the arms of a horrified woman standing nearby, he sprinted across the field toward the flaming airship.
Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion, then another. The impact threw Ted to the ground, but he leaped to his feet again. “Julia!” he shouted as he ran toward the disintegrating Hindenburg. “Julia!”
