I spent the better part of the week on a last minute work trip to Amsterdam and London. You know one thing that’s cool about Europe? There are buildings that are centuries old and are still in active, vibrant use. The West Bend School District could learn a thing or two.

Perhaps this would be a good time to revisit these masterpieces.

This year is the centenary of Levi’s birth, and a fine moment to revisit his three Holocaust memoirs. If This Is a Man, written almost as soon as he returned home after the war, describes his time in Auschwitz. The Truce, written over a decade later, describes the odyssey between leaving Auschwitz and returning to Turin. Three decades after that, and shortly before he died, Levi wrote The Drowned and the Saved, a polemic in which he took on the myths that had gathered around the Holocaust in his lifetime.

“It was my good fortune to be deported to Auschwitz only in 1944,” wrote Levi. At that point, late in the war, the Nazis had decided to extend the lifespan of valuable Jewish labourers and no longer executed them on a whim. That improved the odds. Still, of the 650 Italians that arrived on the same train as Levi, only 20 survived.

It took some time before Levi realised what the camps were. For the Jews, they were neither extermination camps, nor labour camps. They were designed for “the demolition of a man”. On arrival, the newcomers were herded into two groups – useful or not – and Levi, though not a formidable man, found himself in the first. They were stripped, shaved and tattooed: Levi became 174517. The language, by turns heroic, indignant and fearful on the opening pages, changes to the present tense.

From then on, Levi’s account is neither a philosophical nor historical treatment of his experience. It does not explore the roots of Nazism, nor the origins and nature of evil. Instead, it focuses on details of life in the camp. Levi liked to say, wryly, that he modelled his writing on a chemist’s lab report. Here, his telling is so matter of fact that there are even moments of bone-dry comedy. But mostly it is eerie and disturbing, and unmistakably real.

Here’s a very enlightening perspective.

The Fallen of World War II from Neil Halloran on Vimeo.

150 years ago today.

The worst maritime disaster in American history occurred 150 years ago on April 27, 1865. Unlike the Titanic disaster, however, odds are you may never have heard about the Sultana wreck, which claimed over 1,800 lives.

[…]

150 years ago today.

The two generals talked a bit more about Mexico and moved on to a discussion of the terms of the surrender when Lee asked Grant to commit the terms to paper:

“‘Very well,’ replied General Grant, ‘I will write them out.’ And calling for his manifold order-book, he opened it on the table before him and proceeded to write the terms. The leaves had been so prepared that three impressions of the writing were made. He wrote very rapidly, and did not pause until he had finished the sentence ending with ‘officers appointed by me to receive them.’ Then he looked toward Lee, and his eyes seemed to be resting on the handsome sword that hung at that officer’s side. He said afterward that this set him to thinking that it would be an unnecessary humiliation to require officers to surrender their swords, and a great hardship to deprive them of their personal baggage and horses, and after a short pause he wrote the sentence: ‘This will not embrace the side-arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage.’

Grant handed the document to Lee. After reviewing it, Lee informed Grant that the Cavalry men and Artillery men in the Confederate Army owned their horses and asked that they keep them. Grant agreed and Lee wrote a letter formally accepting the surrender. Lee then made his exit:

General Lee leaves From a contemporary sketch.

“At a little before 4 o’clock General Lee shook hands with General Grant, bowed to the other officers, and with Colonel Marshall left the room. One after another we followed, and passed out to the porch. Lee signaled to his orderly to bring up his horse, and while the animal was being bridled the general stood on the lowest step and gazed sadly in the direction of the valley beyond where his army lay – now an army of prisoners. He smote his hands together a number of times in an absent sort of way; seemed not to see the group of Union officers in the yard who rose respectfully at his approach, and appeared unconscious of everything about him. All appreciated the sadness that overwhelmed him, and he had the personal sympathy of every one who beheld him at this supreme moment of trial. The approach of his horse seemed to recall him from his reverie, and he at once mounted. General Grant now stepped down from the porch, and, moving toward him, saluted him by raising his hat. He was followed in this act of courtesy by all our officers present; Lee raised his hat respectfully, and rode off to break the sad news to the brave fellows whom he had so long commanded.”

Here’s a cool local story from Judy Steffes. I think these little history nuggets are awesome.

Time capsule discovered at former Schwai’s                                  By Judy Steffes

It’s like a Nancy Drew / Hardy Boys mystery: The case of the message in a bottle.

Earlier this week a time capsule was discovered at the old Schwai’s restaurant on Cedar Creek Road. “It was Monday afternoon and we just started to demo the wall,” building owner Kevin Zimmer said.  “We were peeling it back to the original structure and as soon as I found it I thought that’s not insulation.”

Nestled behind four various layers of wall, next to a beam, about waist high was a small package, about the size of a loaf of raisin bread. Wrapped tightly in stiff, gnarly, white wallpaper was a 12-ounce glass jar with a screw-top lid.

“When I opened the jar I figured it was something pretty cool,” Zimmer said.

The white lid was stamped in green writing; Marie’s Blue Cheese Dressing – 59 cents. Inside, six sheets of rolled up note paper dated April 24, 1972 and a message written in cursive by long-time store owner Lu Ann Schwai.

“It’s a lovely letter,” said Zimmer.

The note begins, “Hi! We are remodeling this place to make it larger for our tavern and bottle goods business. The store was no longer profitable so therefore we are using this space for bottle goods. The reason we are discontinuing the store is because the large chain stores are open on Sunday. We will keep on with our homemade sausage until the State Health Dept. would close us up.”

The note provides detail of the Schwai family business, “making baloney, summer sausage, ring blood, and head cheese.” Prices included, “pork sausage is $1.09 per pound, ham sandwiches are ¼ lb. and sell for 75cents, 16 oz. tub of beer is 35 cents.”

There’s a paragraph on the history of the building and business which dates to 1941 when “Mr. and Mrs. Joe Schwai, Sr. bought the place …and sold it to their son Joe in 1957. Joe’s dad died in 1950 and Marie the mother with sons Bob & Joe ran it until 1955. Then Joe’s Marie ran it and on July 1, 1957 Joe and Lu Ann bought it.”

Zimmer has rehabbed quite a few old buildings. He’s found personal artifacts like jewelry and birth certificates but said there’s nothing like finding something intentionally put into a wall that was meant to be discovered later.

“It was neat how she (Lu Ann Schwai) mentioned all the kids by name,” Zimmer said. “The note shows the Schwai’s have a very strong family bond. They were passionate about what they were doing, they were passionate about the building but more importantly they were a family that was making changes and decisions that they thought was right for the day.”

Tommy Schwai, owner of Schwai’s Meat & Sausage in Fredonia, sold the Cedar Creek building in 2005. “That sounds like something ma would do,” said Schwai about the note in the glass jar. “She always said when you do that you should put something in it because when they rip up the wall and find it they can read about what happened. Too bad she didn’t put any money in there.”

Schwai remembered the extensive remodeling of the store in 1972. “They tore all that out, then I really had to work,” joked Schwai who, at the time, was just a freshman in high school.

Over 64 years, three generations of Schwai’s ran the Schwai’s Country Store Tavern & Hall. There were baptisms, weddings, funerals, fish fries, St. Patrick’s Day blasts, and tiddlywinks tournaments. Lu Ann Schwai died in June 2008.

Archives at the Washington County Historical Society Research Center show the building dated to the 1800s and was normally home to a saloon, dance hall, and/or hotel. Some of the early names associated with the property include the Bibinger family (1846), A.B. Mueller Hotel and Sample Room (early 1920s), Albert Heidtke (who built a slaughterhouse) and previous owner Peter Gruehl (some spelled it Gruel) who then sold to Joe Schwai Sr.

At the end of the note Lu Ann Schwai adds a P.S.  She wrote about the remodel of the store with a service elevator and walk-in cooler. How they remodeled the tavern and had “2 stools in the womens” toilet.

At the close she writes, “Now we must put in a new bar and we are finished with all we wanted to do. Then we must save for retirement. The Schwai’s from God’s Country. The center of the world where all good friends meet.”