Karl Marx Hof

This is an elevation of Karl Marx Hof—a gigantic housing project more than 1 kilometer long that is near Maggie and Daniel’s house. It was built from 1927 to 1930 by Vienna’s socialist government.



In May 1919, amidst severe food and housing shortages which were the result of Austria’s military defeat in World War I and the collapse of the monarchy, Vienna elected a socialist government. This made Vienna the first major European capital to be governed by a majority of socialists.
From 1923 to 1934, Vienna’s socialists began a campaign to provide housing for working-class residents who were the backbone of their party. There was a serious housing shortage with workers crowded into tiny apartments, sleeping in shifts and as many as 40 people sharing one bathroom. The government constructed 400 apartment complexes—64,000 new apartments in all, that together housed one-tenth of the city’s population.

Well known architects were commissioned to design the apartments. They were called Wiener Gemeindebauten (Vienna Communal Houses.) and were financed by taxes on luxury items. They were spread around the city—Karl Marx Hof is located in what was then and still is now an upscale neighborhood—the 19th district. The apartments were quite small, with the majority of the space being allotted to shared, communal functions. There were kindergartens, clinics, laundries and many gardens. Each of the arches leads into a garden so the apartments are built around a series of courtyards.

The courtyards contain lots of statues—you get the feeling that they were meant to be some kind of mythological symbols of the new socialist society, but I wasn’t able to find any information about them.

As the socialists lost power, the struggle between the right and left became violent. In a final confrontation that ended in a defeat for the socialists, the Austrian army and a right wing paramilitary force fired cannons and artillery into Karl Marx Hof, killing not only the armed socialists who had barricaded themselves inside, but also women and children. In the 50’s the apartments were restored and are in use today. It would be so interesting to be able to talk to some of the people who live there and to see what the apartments look like..

Food and wine

"the wine is here"

There are many vineyards and wineries within the city limits of Vienna and many of them are within walking distance of Daniel and Maggie’s house. The restaurants that serve the wine are called heurigen. If a pine bush is hanging outside it means that they have the new wine. They serve delicious food to go with the wine—you pick out what you want at the front before you sit down. There is a casual atmosphere with wooden tables. On Sunday, the 28th, the three of us had a delicious dinner at the Wagner--a heuriger up the street from Maggie and Daniel's apartment. We didn't get any pictures that night. There are some pictures of just Maggie and me eating there a different night. After we went to the zoo, all three of us ate at a well known restaurant with a famous chef—Plachutta. We ate their specialty which was boiled beef called Tafelspitz. First you eat the broth it was cooked in with vegetables as a soup. Then the meat with different accompaniments like horseradish, creamed spinach. It was really good. I got the cookbook and hope to learn to make Tafelspitz, goulash and schnitzel. Another big favorite of mine was leberkäse a sandwich made with “liver cheese”. I thought this was the same as liverwurst, but after looking it up on the web found out it is made up of corned beef, bacon and onions. Anyway, you can get these fantastic hot sandwiches at many fast food places or even grocery stores. They are so good, you can’t even imagine. I found a picture on the web

Maggie and me at the heuriger--I was really happier than I look


Maggie about to drink at the heuriger and Maggie at a fancy restaurant for goulash

Lebercaese--really good

Jewish Vienna

Vienna has had a Jewish community since the beginning of the 13th century. The first Jewish ghetto was in the inner city. I didn’t get to that section, but there is a Holocaust memorial and a Jewish museum there as well as a medieval synagogue that has been excavated. The present Jewish community has been a center of Jewish life for centuries. It is in the 2nd district, Leopoldstadt, named after the emporer who expelled the Jews from the inner city and made them live there. It’s a beautiful area. I explored it on the afternoon before Yom Kippur began. I wanted to follow the tradition of lighting a yartzeit candle for each of my parents and each of Alan’s parents just before sundown. This was my first real trip on my own without Maggie and Daniel (they were both at work). Leopoldstadt had many easily identifiable Jewish men wearing dark suits and hats all heading for synagogue. I asked for help—everyone was very courteous and most spoke English. The streets were confusing and I would follow the directions I was given until I got lost again at which time I would stop and ask someone else. Finally I found the outdoor market—a mixture of kosher and hallal butchers, lots of fresh vegetables. There weren’t very many English speakers among the merchants there, but they found someone who understood what I wanted and showed me where to buy the candles. Along the sidewalks as I walked I often came across small brass plaques. With the aid of my dictionary I read how many people in a particular apartment on a particular date were rounded up and sent to a concentration camp. And there would be names and birth dates of some of the people. The “Way of Remembrance.” There was something so moving about being a part of this community surviving, living, carrying on but not forgetting.
That evening I met Maggie and Daniel for services at Or Chadash—the progressive Jewish synagogue. In the next row in front of us was a very youthful looking 85 year old man who with his wife had just moved back to Vienna to retire. He was reconnecting with family and friends—he had last lived in Vienna at age 15 in 1938.
Maggie and I fasted and attended Yom Kippur services the whole next day. There was a section of the service where we talked about the holocaust--like there is in every synagogue all over the world on Yom Kippur. The part about the non-Jews who stood up against the craziness and helped Jews seemed especially significant. For me it was emotional, difficult and helpful—all these rituals having to do with death, guilt, forgiveness. We broke our fast at a nearby Italian restaurant with others from the congregation. This was one of those times that I will always remember, and never thought to take a picture.

Mother, daughter, father

View from the kitchen window

This trip feels like a new era for me in being a mother and daughter. All my closest relationships are changing. Both my parents are now dead, so being a daughter is totally different. My daughters are grown up women. Having the family together for Dad’s funeral made this all feel very concrete. During the time we were all together in New Jersey, Maggie said to me that she felt like a daughter of a daughter.

It is one thing to know that Maggie and Rachel have their own homes, their own kitchens. But it was a whole other thing to be there with Maggie. We cooked Rosh Hashanah dinner together. I helped. She was a very fast, confident, efficient, creative cook. She takes more risks than I do I noticed. She delegates well. What a feeling of strong femininity working together in the kitchen with all those good smells.

Maggie cared for me physically—took my arm, worried about my sore leg, made sure I had good food. And she cared for me emotionally, listening, holding my hand, adding her own soft spoken wisdom as I dealt with Dad’s death.

Maggie planning her day 8am
My daughter is making her way in the world and it isn’t easy. But she and Daniel support each other, encourage each other, help each other. Their home is a warm, nurturing place. The dining room table is the starting off point every morning.. Always we had coffee. Some days we had delicious rye bread made by Daniel’s grandmother. Or some cinnamon bread or rye bread Daniel’s parents had brought up from Carinthia. Another morning Maggie made us eggs and toast. I took pictures of each of them starting out their days at the table. Maggie going over a complicated schedule of many different jobs in different places. Daniel going over the newspapers and explaining the Austrian political situation to me.

Parenthood has always, for me, been filled with highs and lows: unbelievable worry and pain when things don’t go well, when you feel like you made the wrong decision, when your child is sick or if you don’t know if they are safe, and such great joy sometimes even just moments after the pain. This trip was one of the great joy times. Maggie and Daniel treated me with so much love, allowed me into their lives. I got to understand their struggles and victories. They shared the beauties of Vienna, and some of their important places. They cared for me in all ways making sure I got everything I needed--spoke for me since I don’t speak German. They also coached me and helped me to make steps going places alone, gave me mini-German lessons. It was really like I was the child and they were the parents now that I think about it.

Daniel reading the paper 8:30am

Dad's funeral

We first met in New Jersey at Dad and Terri's house on Indiancreek Rd. Daniel, Rachel and I came into the house straight from the airport, having been up for 24 hours. The house was full of people, quietly eating. And there were my loved ones--my brothers, my sister,my sister-in-law, my nephews. At first I didn't recognize any of them. The brothers and nephews all in suits and ties. Each one of them looked unbelievably beautiful to me. Later, Alan arrived from Seattle. All of us together at the Best Western in Hazlet, New Jersey.


The funeral service in the light filled church was comforting. Now I can't remember exactly what the priest said--just a feeling of gentleness.
That night, we all went out to eat at what had once been a quiet Inn. Only now it was Big Ed's Barbecue. We were very obviously in New Jersey.
Dad was buried at Brigadier General Somebody's Veterans' Cemetary--45 minutes away--a long drive where we struggled to stay together in our funeral procession. I guess Dad knew about that ceremony--the flag being taken off his coffin, painstakingly folded and handed to his widow with salutes.

In the picture above, I think we all look like we are smiling bravely. This is hard.

So much about these 3 days was so hard. But we have each other. So much love.