TWENTY-ONE
An Entirely New World
The Batory was due to arrive in New York harbor on Wednesday, September 29, and when the day came, reporters from every newspaper in New York were waiting in Lidia's hotel room to interview her. But the ship was a day late and they left disappointed.
The next day, early in the morning, a small group of Baha'is and Esperantists were waiting at the dock to welcome Lidia. Horace Holley and Della Quinlan - clutching a bunch of dahlias - were among them.
On board the Batory, Lidia saw the Statue of Liberty rising out of the morning fog. She watched the other passengers, many of them immigrants, and observed: 'emotion was visibleon each face, in spite of a mask of indifference, when the American officials on the ship began checking passports . . . declarations, certificates, to decide on life or death: to admit or not to admit the alien to American territory? What happened', she wondered, 'at the last minute, to that old woman whom I helped to prepare her customs declaration for a samovar and festival candlesticks, the last souvenirs ofthe old world, of the old life? Only later did the thought of her come to me, because in the meantime I myself experienced some emotion when my passport disappeared into the official's portfolio to "verify" the truth of my assertions about the purpose of my voyage and about the organization that had invited me.'
Horace Holley was waiting to sign the guarantee for her with the immigration offirials. Although he had arrived at the port ready to pay the five hundred dollar bond, the officials did not ask for it. But the customs officers gave Lidia a thorough search, suspicious of what appeared to be a bizarre collection of objects in her baggage. They seemed 'somewhat surprised by the battery of pencils, rubber animals and other necessities of the Cseh teacher' in her suitcases.
As Mr Holley drove Lidia to her hotel, New York 'absorbed' her: 'incomparable for its skyscrapers, the feverish traffic, the great crowds of people, of automobiles, of everything that the world possesses. My legs still wobbled and I still felt the roll of the ship, but there wasn't time to think about that. My room in the sixteen-story New Yorker
an entirely new world
Hotel quickly filled with journalists and Esperantists. In America one doesn't waste time.'
In fact, this time only four reporters turned up, but they stayed long, asking questions. In the end, only the New York Sun and the New York News ran the story. One article trumpeted:
bonan tagon!' says the lady
Uninformed Reporters are Unable to Answer
they knew no esperanto
'Bonan tagon,' a slender young woman wearing spectacles greeted a group of somewhat startled reporters . . . 'Kiel vi fartas?'
'Let's have it again,' one of them replied. And the young woman answered: 'Bonan tagon, kiel vi fartas.'
. . . And thus the fourth estate was again introduced to Esperanto, the international language, by its principal advocate, Miss Lidia Zamenhof, the youngest daughter ofits late founder.
After demonstrating that she could speak English if she were a mind to, Miss Zamenhof lapsed back into Esperanto and there she stayed in the face of much coaxing during the remainder of the interview.
The reporters soon learned that her words of greeting simply meant, 'Good day! How are you?'
The journalists seemed less interested in Esperanto than in asking Lidia personal questions she was not used to being asked by strangers. How old was she and how tall? When the reporter from the Sun asked her how much she weighed, she looked puzzled. He cried, 'Let me guess, let me guess,' and made her stand up. He looked her all over, pinched her arm, and announced that she weighed about a hundred pounds. 'She took it', Della Quinlan later recounted, 'without turning a hair. But when he went out, her face was a study! She said slowly and emphatically, "This is an entirely new world.'"
One reporter asked Lidia, 'Have you any boyfriends?' and he reported her reply thus: '"No haven time fora such phoolishnessck," her reply or the translation, or both, sounded like.'
Reporter Howard Whitman, whose article, headlined 'esperanto^s daughter hereto fight babel', ran in the Sunday News, also was not entirely serious in his coverage of Lidia's voyage to carry 'the torch of her sire's life work to America'. Of Esperanto he wrote: 'An essential starting vocabulary may include: Mi salutas vin (Hi, pal), Mi amas vin (I love you), and Donu al mi kvin dolarojn (Lend me five dollars).' Explaining that the Esperantists wore a green star in their lapels to recognize each other, he suggested: 'Next time you see one, try "Donu al mi kvin dolarojn", which is as good a way as any to see how much brotherly love the language has engendered.' The article was accom- panied by a photograph of Lidia, 'crusader for Esperanto', surrounded by her rubber animals and other Cseh course demonstration objects, and the caption cried 'Vi Havas lon Tie!' (You've got something there!).
Two days after Lidia's arrival, the Spiritual Assembly of the Baha'i's of New York City held a tea for her at the Baha'i Center at 119 West Fifty-Seventh Street, and the New York Esperantists gave a dinner to introduce her to the Esperantists.
At the Baha'1 Center that afternoon, a large crowd had gathered to meet Lidia. But those in the audience who knew of Samuel Eby's unfavorable reports about Lidia's speaking ability undoubtedly awaited her speech uneasily. The distinguished lawyer Mountfort Mills opened the meeting, welcoming Lidia on behalf of the National Spiritual Assembly. Della Quinlan greeted her in the name of the Baha'i' Esperantists. 'Then', Della later told Josephine Kruka, 'She came up on the rostrum . . . and she spoke in English with a delightful French accent. And Josephine! She took them by storm. It was a beautifully thoughtful speech, showing a fundamental grasp of the spirit of the Cause. She ended in Esperanto, which Jimmie Morton translated. She had no more than left the platform, than Mr Mills came up to me and said it was one of the best things that had ever been done in New York, would she speak the next Sunday.' Della was over- whelmed by confusion and delight. 'O, Josephine, we "have something here" as they say!'
Della was instantly charmed by Lidia. 'Lidia is so cute', she wrote. 'When she is looking for something about the room, she puts her finger at the side of her nose and says "Nu kie ĝi estas" (Now, where is it?). 'She is such a little thing!' Della told Ernest Dodge. 'Her photographs make her look big for some unknown reason.' 'No picture does her justice. She is too alive!'
That evening, the meeting of the New York Esperanto Society was to be devoted to Lidia's Cseh demonstration lesson. Diana Klotts, a reporter for a Jewish periodical, The Sentinel, was there. Earlier that day she had met Lidia in herhotel room. 'Small, blond Lidia Zamenhof is not beautiful. Not, at least, in the accepted sense ofthe term,' was her first impression. But after viewing the demonstration lesson she wrote: 'It is evening, and the East Room of the New Yorker is packed with people listening to a young woman of about 33 years old whose eyes sparkle behind shellrimmed glasses. With all the courage and wisdom of a modern Minerva she stands before her audience and in a full rich voice says whimsically, by way of introduction, 'Mi estas
Lidia Zamenhof.' And all at once, slight blond Lidia Zamenhof is beautiful, radiating that grace and charm which emanate from the truly great. . .
'As the evening progresses, and her introduction has been completed, she steps down from the platform and lesson one in Esperanto begins. And there is humor - laughter - lots of fun in the little East Room. There is nothing dull about a language as alive as Esperanto . . . She will say 'Mi amas vin' (I love you). And there is the reflection of a strangeinner light. Yes, LidiaZamenhofisbeautiful-as is the message she brings.' The article, headlined 'The High Priestess of Esperanto', was syndicated and sent to a hundred Jewish periodicals.