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Richard Kool
rkool@cln.etc.bc.ca
was the first to respond to my call for pictures and bios of Holocaust survivors, posted by their children.
This is a picture of Richard's mother, Hester Wass-Kool, and the van Westering children, for whom she was a nanny during the war.
When we were deported to Amsterdam, we stayed with my father's sister Rachelle, who lived in at Nieuwe Kerkstraaat 113.
My rescuer was Paul Christiaan van Westering, born in 1911 and died in March 1991 at the age of 79, and is buried in Algemene Begraafplaats at Heemstede. His wife, from whom he separated right after the war, is still alive but wants nothing to do with anything that happened at that time. The children that I took care of while living with the van Westerings are still alive, and I have corresponded in the last year with the eldest daughter, Loes. His third wife, Mrs. C.H. van Westering - Duyvendak is also alive.
During the war years, while in hiding, I lived in 54 Ramplaan, Overveen. Through those years as a teenager, I worked as a nanny and maid for the van Westerings, taking care of their three children. Mr. van Westering for a time worked as an engineer in the Hoogovens, and later became a church organist performing in the Haarlem area. I attended some of his performances in the Haarlem churches. He also, during the war years, composed or wrote out music at home. In the Protestant churches in Holland, his name is very well known even today for his musical setting of the Confession, which is used every Sunday in the major churches. After the war, he was a musical advisor for the late queen Wilhelmina, an author and composer. He also, in the post-war years, was very active with concerts, judging choirs, and writing. He composed musical settings for church music and was involved in writing music for popular screenplays.
Some time during the summer of 1942, my mother, father and brother received notification that they were to report to the Hollandse Schouwburg for transport. The last time I saw my family, they were walking down the street to the Schouwburg.
If they came for my parents, they would come for me as well. A friend of mine, Rosa Cymbalist, was already involved with the underground. "You're going" she told me, and with forged papers and a new name, Helene Waasdorp, I had to leave Amsterdam and head south in the spring of 1943.
I remember passing through other houses, staying in two other places for a night before arriving at the van Westering's home. I took the tram from Amsterdam to Haarlem for this rendezvous, having to travel as Gentile, not Jew, and always traveling closer to my home of Zandvoort.
Early in April 1943, I arrived in Haarlem with the knowledge that I should go to a church where I would meet my rescuer. I now have no memory of which church it was. A man was waiting for me, sitting in a pew. The first thing he asked in this interview was for me to say "eighty eight" in Dutch- a number that was spoken by Amsterdam Jews with a particular accent. Having grown up in Zandvoort, I said this magic number to the satisfaction of my interviewer, who was convinced that I would not give myself away as a Jew by the way I spoke.
My job with the van Westerings was a maid and nanny. I worked at taking care of the two young children. While I was there, a third was born. I cooked and cleaned and cared for the babies.
While I did not formally "hide" as my features were not very "Jewish", I only rarely could go outside. I remained with the van Westering family from April 1943 to January 1946. After the liberation, I continued in my role as nanny and maid until my departure. I had a room in the attic of the house.
As far as I can tell, there were no financial arrangements made in terms of my living with the van Westerings. I worked for them in the house, and I figure that covered the cost of my expenses while living there. While after the war there was some controversy about my surviving family providing compensation to the van Westerings ( Mr. van Westering did request compensation for his expenses), nothing as far as I am aware was paid to him from my family. I understand that he did receive some money for me from the Stichting 1940-1945.
I do not really know why the family decided to take me in. I can only assume that they were sympathetic to the plight of the Jews, as they had taken in others for shorter periods of time. With my light hair and blue/green eyes, I could easily be present in their house as a nanny without raising suspicion. As far as a cover story goes, I was simply their nanny and maid. I am not aware of anything more than that. As I didn't go out of the house often, there was little need for coming up with a story.
I guess that Mr. Van Westering was involved with resistance activity, through, as there was a time when the Gestapo came looking for him and he had to go underground. I was told by some that perhaps I should leave at that point, but I didn't.
One of the few regular times that I did leave the house was to continue my education. Mr. Van Westering arranged for me to have a tutor who helped me with English and German during the evenings.
During the period I was with the family, I became close to the children. The adult van Westerings were rather cold, and my relationship to them was very formal. However, this may have been part of their sense of my cover. I was only a maid after all, and not part of the family. I only remember I always had to eat in the kitchen by myself. I didn't eat with them. I cooked, I served them and cleaned up, and then I could eat in the kitchen.
Through the war years, as far as I know, I was the only one that the van Westerings hid in their home. However, I remember that before my arrival, they had allowed their house to be used as a way station for people on their way to a more secure hiding location. The only other person that I know who was helped by the van Westerings is Sonja van Son.
Immediately after the war, I wanted to get away from the family and away from Holland. My goal was to join my grandfather in New York City. My separation from the van Westerings was not a pleasant one, in that I wanted to re-join my aunts and uncles who had survived one way or another, and the van Westerings wanted to keep me on as their maid and nanny. Through the fall of 1945, I was increasingly despondent and regularly seeing social workers who were trying to sort out the situation. When I left the van Westering house in January 1946, I never looked back nor had any contact with them again.
By all accounts, the van Westering family saved more than just my life. While my dealings with them after the war were not all that pleasant, I realize that I owe my survival to their kindness and bravery.
By Hester Kool, © 1996 All Rights Reserved
