Hilltown Postcards

Hilltown Postcard: WW II Refugee House in Cummington

Let me tell you about one of the favorites stories I wrote as a reporter — a minister’s successful efforts to bring World War II refugees to the hilltown of Cummington. That began 85 years ago.

The Rev. Carl Sangree was an avowed pacifist, but when he realized he could not stop that war, he chose to help those who fled its violence. With the backing of other churches, Sangree turned a modest home he and his wife owned on Cummington’s Main Street into a haven known as The Little Red House — the color it was painted then — or the Refugee House.

A woodblock print of the Refugee House created by Gustav Wolf, an artist who stayed there.

Over 40 refugees were brought to the hostel — doctors, lawyers, writers, professors, journalists, business owners, musicians, and artists. They were Jews or people who had bravely spoken out against the Nazis, so their lives were in danger. Two young boys were later placed with a family in Heath. One refugee had a letter of reference from Thomas Mann. Julius Boehm was on the Austrian Olympic Ski Team.

Sangree relied on churches in Boston and New York to refer the refugees. He drove to those cities and brought the people back to Cummington for what was supposed to be a temporary stay. The refugees were there to acquire a means of making a living, mainly in the arts and crafts field. Studio space and materials was provided in the house’s barn. A market for what they made was supported by other churches.

Out of respect, the refugees attended Sangree’s services at the nearby Village Congregational Church even though many were Jews. (He also preached at the West Cummington Congregational Church.)

For several years, I was the hilltown reporter for the Daily Hampshire Gazette, covering three neighboring towns — Cummington, Chesterfield, and Worthington plus any regional news in the newspaper’s large coverage area. These towns may be small, think population 1,200 and under, but they are rich in stories and interesting people.

One day, I was checking the traps, that is, making my weekly rounds to reliable sources, when I learned a man doing research on “The Cummington Story” had stopped by the Old Creamery in Cummington because Aaron Copeland had composed the film’s score. The film was about the town’s experience with the World War II refugees. Ron Berenson, the store’s then co-owner, asked if I knew anything about it. No, I didn’t, but I certainly would dig into it.

And like other stories, one tip led to another. While I was covering Cummington’s Annual Town Meeting that May, I happened to sit next to Gloria Gowdy, who told me as a teenager she lived across the street from the Refugee House. She invited me to her house when one of the refugees, the sculptor Nelli Barr, then 90, would be visiting from her home in Chicago. On that day, Barr brought along a scrapbook and a typewritten memoir. We spoke at length about her experiences.

Barr recalled it took seven months to reach the U.S. She and her husband, Paul Weighardt, established artists, left their home in Paris for Norway. When the Nazis invaded Norway, they hiked to Sweden, where friends gave them enough money to book third-class passages from Moscow to Siberia, then Japan, Panama, and finally, Haiti, where they obtained permanent visas. They arrived in New York with a few bags and their sketchbooks.

For the story, which appeared in the Gazette’s Hampshire Life magazine on July 22, 1994, I reviewed historical records, gladly accepted an invitation to visit the house by its then owner, and interviewed Cummington residents who had first-hand experiences with the refugees.

Gowdy said she could relate with the refugees because her father was Jewish. She recalled the war had a heavy hand on many of the refugees, who didn’t talk about their experiences.

Virginia Caldwell, who lived next door, said many townspeople had a wait-and-see attitude when the refugees arrived.

I met with Connie Talbot, Sangree’s granddaughter. Connie, who lives in her grandfather’s home in nearby Windsor, allowed me to go through the paperwork he kept in the attic.

Now about that film, “The Cummington Story,” which was produced for the Office of War Information, Overseas Branch.

Sangree is the narrator of a fictionalized version of the refugees’ experience and how they won over the very reluctant denizens of Cummington. Werner Königsberger, one of the refugees, plays the role of the main character although with the first name Joseph. Another woman from the hostel acts as his wife Anna. However, there is no mention of where these homeless people came from, except for one allusion to the book burnings that took place in Germany although the country is not named..

The movie supposedly films Joseph speaking at his first and only Town Meeting, as he is about to return “home.” The narrator says this about Joseph, “He would be leaving soon to return home to help rebuild his own country, but would take with him many things he had learned in Cummington.”

Since the 20-minute film was intended to be shown overseas, it appears the U.S. government wanted to make it clear refugees were welcome as long as they went back home when it was safe again.

In reality, none of the refugees who came to Cummington returned to Europe. Königsberger and his wife Grete, who came to the U.S. with $6, were the only refugees to stay in Cummington, opening an arts and crafts business. The rest found other places to live in the U.S. thanks to the efforts of the Rev. Sangree.

Watch The Cummington Story from the National Archives.

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Hilltown Postcards

Following a Mislead about Mastodon Bones

After being the Worthington correspondent for years, I took on two more hilltowns: Chesterfield and Cummington. These days predated the social media we have now, so that required bona fide legwork. Fridays was my day to call sources in each town, which included officials, school secretaries, and people generally plugged in to their community. I also drove around, making a couple of stops at town halls and such. I called it “checking the traps.” When I became an editor that’s what I advised the reporters to do. It’s also the title for one of my Isabel Long Mysteries.

One of favorite sources was Ron Berenson, who used to co-own the Old Creamery Grocery in Cummington, population less than 800. Ron, who was a transplant from New Jersey, was a lawyer and had worked in PR, so he had a keen interest in news. He knew how to chat up the customers. He tipped me to so many stories and only misled me once, but it would have been a great one if it’d been true.

Ron called to say two archeologists from MIT had stopped at the store to say mastodon bones had been found in the Swift River section of Cummington, a discovery of immense proportions. “I wanted you to get the story before the New York Times and the Globe,” my loyal source told me.

So I drove to Swift River, following Ron’s directions. I parked the car at the end of a dirt road just as a state wildlife truck was pulling out, which I took as a good clue.

But as I hiked in the snowy woods to a clearing, I didn’t find a crew of scientists or equipment or even footprints. All I saw was the paw prints of bear, massive ones, but I kept searching for an hour or so, trying different roads until I returned to the store.

Ron was incredulous that I didn’t find anything, the men had been so serious, but then a customer overhearing our conversation started laughing. The night before on the TV show, “Northern Exposure,” two characters played the same trick on the locals. Now the laugh was on us.

I used to tease Ron about the story, but I didn’t hold it against him. He and I had been duped together.

But too bad, it would have been a great story it were true.

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Hilltown Postcards

The Great Pig Feud

When Hank and I lived in the Ringville section of Worthington, we lucked out with great neighbors. Good neighbors leave each other alone. Great ones become your friends. The Lipperts, Stroms, Charlie Baker and his son Chuck, and Marian Sanderson come to mind. Certainly, nothing happened to disturb the peace in Ringville. 

But that wasn’t true for everyone in Worthington and the hilltowns around it. There have been neighborhood feuds, often ignited by something personal. I will leave those alone for this story.

Instead, I will stick to the feuds about animals, typically over barking dogs, or worse, biting dogs, although I recall one notable dispute over pigs.

As the hilltown reporter for the Daily Hampshire Gazette, I covered hearings for all of them. The dog owners were passionately loyal to their pets and blind to their faults. I’ve seen neighbors who are generally reasonable people come close to losing it.

As for the pigs, it was a case of newcomer against native, and it was pretty easy to figure out who complained about the pigsty and who owned it. The Worthington Board of Health’s hearing drew a sizable crowd. 

The couple, yes, newcomers, who brought the complaint to the board didn’t like the smell of their neighbors’ pigs and worried their well could be contaminated by runoff from their pigsty. They had put money into their landscaping.

The owner of the pigs, who raised the animals for eating, had responded in good neighborly fashion by moving the pigsty closer to the property line after they complained.

I, of course, knew both parties, nice people, all of them, but they had a problem they couldn’t resolve on their own. One of the locals at the meeting told me, “Make it real funny when you write it,” but I wouldn’t do that. This was serious stuff to these folks.

Tony Lake, a Worthington resident who would later be Bill Clinton’s National Security Adviser, spoke in favor of the pigs at the hearing. He was raising cattle then and was concerned this could be the start of an anti-farm animal trend. Besides, he said, everyone knew that cattle manure smelled worse than pigs’.

The Board of Health vote unanimously in favor of the pig owner.

But that wasn’t the end of it. The situation was resolved a few years later in the couple’s favor when the neighbor who raised pigs got divorced and moved away.

Many of my books are set in the fictional hilltowns of Western Mass. because I was inspired living and reporting on the real ones. Here’s link to my books on Amazon.

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