My Life As a Muckracker As told to Dr. Freud (part five)

Here's something strange Doctor: To this day I've not been able to figure out how Yugoslavia’s Communist dictator, Marshall Tito, knew I was coming to Zagreb.

Did Russian spies tip him off, or was it that Jewish Rumanian girl with the unshaven legs I met in Zurich? She was nice, and I thought it was a pleasant encounter. She didn't strike me as a commie agent. More on that in a moment.

I was still in distress, when I headed to Zurich on my journalistic adventure into government sponsored social and welfare services, but I managed to put Bette Daneman far back in my mind.

Zurich is, as you know, a magnificent, civilized town. At least it was in those days. The first night in town, I decided it was a good place to relax and stretch, take a shower and wash some clothes.

I wasn't in the room two hours, when I got an urgent call from the front desk.

“The police want to talk to you Mr. Veidenthal. Yes? They say you have clothing hanging on the railing of your balcony. It is against the law, sir! You have a half an hour to remove them, or we will have to evict you.

“Yes sir!”  I said, and promptly obeyed.

Is this Nazi Germany?, I thought. I went out to the balcony, which overlooked the town square, and removed every bit of clothing from the railing, feeling like someone was tracking me from below.

My visit to an enormous Swiss hospital the next day was very impressive. I could not help noticing that the Red Cross was hanging all over. Then I reminded myself that is the Swiss flag. It hangs everywhere. The government hospital was very much what you might expect in a small, homogenous country. The care was superb, and the facility had sustained no damage from the war. They had remained neutral, as the Nazis ravaged Europe.

That night, my encounter with the Rumanian girl came on a trolley as I was riding back from the hospital. I noticed her sitting opposite me, attractive and young, with unshaven legs. Somehow I remember that vividly, after all these years. So Eastern European, I thought. I smiled and she smiled back. I got up and walked toward her, she made room for me, and we talked. I noticed a small Star of David hanging around her neck. Aha, she's one of us, I declared to myself. 

I said “Shalom”. 

She replied, “Shalom”. 

Turned out she was a Holocaust survivor whose family had escaped Rumania during the war. l wanted to know more. It was the germ of a very interesting conversation. When we got to the stop at her hotel she invited me to get off and have a cup of tea. Nothing sinister I assure you, but I did mention my planned visit to Zagreb. Innocent, totally innocent, at the time.

I left Zurich none the worse for wear and headed for Vienna, which was still occupied by troops from the US, England, France and Russia. The Victors, so to speak. Somehow, using my Press credentials, I managed to gain entry to the world meeting of the International Association of Legislators. Lawmakers from everywhere attended, including a senator and several congressmen from Ohio, and notably, Senator Estes Kefauver of Tennessee, who I believe had run for president. (Unsuccessfully.)

I jumped on a bus with the lawmakers and their wives for a fun evening at a tavern up in the Vienna Woods. Kefauver as I recall, was really drunk before we got there, and led our bus mates in singing a round of Auld Lang Syne. I thought to myself, if these guys were sober we could declare peace around the world. I was idealistic in those days.

It was a frenzied drunken evening, where absolutely nothing would be solved.

So much for world peace.

From Vienna, a battered prewar plane managed somehow to get me to a small airfield in Zagreb. It was another tiny airport with mostly government military warplanes. This was the heart of the new communist Balkans where Dictator Marshal Tito had assumed control. He ruled with an iron hand, and was not loved by the free world, as he was a puppet of Stalin.

I had come to cover the World Conference for the Welfare of Children. Key participants were, the Dean of the School of Social Work at Case Western Reserve University, and Bell Greve, Director of Health & Welfare for the City of Cleveland. This was to be the first post war conference. Both Bell Greve and the CWRU dean were widely known, Arriving at the airport, I looked around. The horse drawn vehicles, ready to carry us into town, struck me as so primitive.

THE TOSO DABAC ARCHIVES

This was 1955. There were only a few motorized cabs. I was told there was only one gas station in town. I somehow found a “real cab” and headed for my hotel which had been booked for me by an agent back in Cleveland. We pulled up, and before I could gather my things and pay the driver, an attractive woman opened the back door.

"On behalf of Marshal Tito, I welcome you to Zagreb. I have a better place for you," she announced in perfect English, then she hopped into the front seat and instructed the driver in Slovenian. I shouted to the driver to let me out, but it was too late.

I was petrified.

Next: My indoctrination into Communism, Tito and Stalin-style.