Autobiography Draft Chapter 2

Autobiography Draft: Chapter 2 World Rights
“White Slavery to White Rights: What It Was Like to Grow Up As Slaves for Jews on Euclid Avenue, Chicago, Five Blocks from Black Michelle Obama”

Chapter 2

Daddy’s Mama and Daddy had a baby named Andrew who died at 8 years old, which left his two siblings, Johnny and Mary. As time went by, Jadwiga conceived again, and all seemed well for Valentine and Jadwiga Nowak on April 6, 1916. But that wellness was short-lived.

According to my Mama’s version of that day, she told me that Jadwiga was near her childbirth date and like any other day; she went to sleep after carrying the baby in her tummy all day long. Valentine was working at the steel mills, night shift. Suddenly, my Grandma Jadwiga awoke during the night with violent pains. Her blood curdling screams could be heard throughout their little apartment at 122 Caldwell Avenue, an apartment building according to the 1915 US Census. Daddy was only 9, a mere waif of a boy, but charged in to help his mother. She cried to him to get a doctor, and darted out to knock on doors of the homes near him. But Daddy was small, it was no exaggeration that he was called “Lil’ Joe Nowak” when I was growing up. As he gripped his fist tightly to pound the doors, no one answered his childish pleas. He finally turned back home to his Mama, and when he looked at her, her eyes fastened on him staring straight ahead in a life-long lock, for my Grandma was dead. She apparently died in childbirth.

I did further research into Lackawanna’s genealogical records for her death certificate which shows a sort of uremic poisoning. She was only 31 years old. But something gnawed at me not just to get Grandma’s death certificate but itched my mind and told me to get a copy of Grandpa Valentine’s second marriage certificate to Katrina. I studied both documents carefully, and my silent suspicions were confirmed. Grandpa Valentine married their young housekeeper on May 8, 1916 just a month after Grandma Jadwiga’s horrendous death and that of her unborn child, the baby the last symbol of the love between Valentine and Jadwiga.

But I combed my memories for even one more tidbit to this puzzle.  I thought of Daddy’s sister Mary, who was 7 at the time of her mother’s death had a very troubled life. I researched all five Census sheets from 1910, 1915, 1920, 1930, and 1940, and Mary drops off on the 1930 Census and was replaced by a little girl who is listed on the Census as 9 years old from Russia and Austria.

I clearly remember listening to family stores that the new stepmother was extremely strict, even mean, with the step-children. Since I later would take a vow of silence, my hearing was my most active faculty. Family talk said that after Grandpa Valentine went to work, the children were expected to hide under the table. Katrina, the step-mother would lock the food cabinets so that the children couldn’t eat, and she had a black rubber hose to beat my Daddy, Lil’ Joe, Johnny and Mary. But it was Mary that would be told to hide behind curtains when company came and it seemed there was strife between the step-mother and step-daughter. I hope that perhaps it is not true, that Mary was driven into an insane asylum or worse perhaps something even more deadly occurred.

But it wasn’t just these uncanny, mysterious recollections of the past that gnaw at my brain, I do know that Daddy also was very upset by what was going on in the new second family household. It is so hard to trace back 80 years when they are all dead and buried with their secrets. I’m not dead-I can write the little that I know-try to search for the truth.

My Daddy told my brother Eddie on Eddie’s wedding day that Daddy’s step-mother was so mean he had to run away from home and to get even with her he decided to smash eggs all around the house that was newly painted. It appears he never returned back to live and share his life events, even schooling, with his Daddy, Valentine.  It appears that Daddy was only in 8th grade.

And that leads me to saving grace for my Daddy at least. I wondered where Daddy went when he ran away from home and the beatings when so young and probably didn’t graduate.

My ancestry sleuthing discovered something like a spiritual scent calling me to study my oldest sister Joan’s birth certificate that Daddy’s place of occupation was to work at “Rev. Monsg. Baker,” compound as gardener in 1936 the year Baker died. His full name was Nelson Henry Baker.  That title was a very holy one for he was more than a priest, but a Monsignor. Both Fr. Baker and my Daddy came from Lackawanna New York, right by the lovely Niagara Falls, so noted for tourists and newlyweds. And I can’t think of a more beautiful spot on earth.

Rev. Baker’s story is filled with intrigue and goodness, even saintly deeds. In a society that today worships Jewish TV, Jewish radio, Jewish news of wars and evil, good is a real rarity and not heralded with trumpets. It should be just the opposite. I’ll herald the trumpets and also sing the good works of this holy Catholic Christian man.

His Christian spiritual story began when he decided to become a priest late in life, about 28 years old. He was already a successful business man who ran his white German father and Irish mother’s, family business, when the overwhelming urge came to leave it and begin to serve God. So he entered the seminary for study and was sent to Rome. While in Europe, he stopped to visit “Our Lady of Victory” sanctuaries in France and it’s said that this was the beginning of his devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. To me, it is strengthening to think my spiritual background was based on “victory” which has kept me hoping during my life, despite my tremendous losses and through the bleakest of times.

Since my Daddy ran away from home, it seems that he may have run to Fr. Baker’s home for boys, right there in Lackawanna New York. The Vatican in Rome gave Baker the title of “Padre of the Poor,” and I look back now, I can see why my family had so many children, with so little money, and actually were the poorest family in my entire life’s experience.
From Nelson Henry Baker (February 16, 1841 – July 29, 1936) [1] was a Roman Catholic priest and church administrator in the Buffalo, New York area.) At the time of his death in 1936, the “city of charity” he developed under the patronage of Our Lady of Victory in Lackawanna, NY consisted of a minor basilica, an infant home, a home for unwed mothers, a boys’ orphanage, a boys’ protectory, a hospital, a nurses’ home, and a grade and high school. Since 1986, the Our Lady of Victory parish and the diocese of Buffalo have been working to secure canonization.
He has been beatified, and now “venerated,” which means there was an 800 page biography sent to the German Pope Benedict XVI, who by the way, was a Hitler Youth, in Germany. You surely will be astonished when I report later the hidden good of Hitler’s Party.
I experienced a life and death situation during the time my home had Fr. Baker’s holy pictures around the house. It was 13 years after his death, 1949, and I became deathly ill with double pneumonia. I was a baby of two years old. And since my Grandpa Kopaczewski died in 1949, it places the near death experience around that time. My Auntie Josie, Mama’s sister, lost a daughter, Barbara Ann, named just like me, also to double pneumonia, and there’s a family picture of her in a coffin.
My sister describes it that I choked, coughed and turned blue as if near death. Suddenly, my sister had to run to the neighbor to call the doctor since we were too poor to have a phone. Dr. Rosenblum, Jewish doctor, arrived as I lay on the table naked for him to check me. He then told Mama to wrap me up in blanket, even without clothes, and rushed me in his car with Mama, since we were poverty stricken and had no automobile. He dropped me off at Michael Reese Children’s Hospital on Lake Michigan where we lived.
I stop and am a little troubled by what I just wrote, that I was stripped naked, and when taken to hospital was told not to put my clothes back on but wrap me in blanket. I read once that some Jewish men have been noted throughout history to have sex with 2 and 3 year old girls, since they can’t talk and tell anyone since they don’t understand what is happening to them. How disgusting, but true.
Once there, the hospital administered intravenous tubes to feed me, and I still have a scar or badge of courage, on my right white ankle, above my bone. It’s ironically or prophetically an incision in the form of the old 1960’s peace sign.
The only thing Mama ever said about this event was that she used it as a tool to make me obey her. She said, “When you were dying with double pneumonia, I used the $500 from a tiny inheritance of your grandfather, Valentine, when he died, to give to the doctor and hospital to save your life.”
But then, as by a stroke of divinity, I had to go back to that Jewish Dr. Phillip Rosenblum when I was about 10 years old. As I sat in his office chair waiting, he was delighted to see me when he walked in. He told me, “You shouldn’t even be sitting there and alive today. When I drove you and your mother to Michael Reese Hospital when you were two, according to my records, you were at the point of death, and there was no cure for double pneumonia in early 1949. I did not heal you. You are the miracle of my entire career!” I realized even then, my life was a bit extraordinary, even spiritual, but never told a soul, not even Mama.
From my birth certificate record, when I finally left the safe, rent-free womb of my White Polish mother, the date was August 21, 1947, at 3:56 p.m. at South Chicago Community Hospital. In those days gone by, women would spend 10 days to relax and recuperate. Now thanks to rich Jewish feminists, like Gloria Steinem, our white women have to get back to work as slaves as soon as possible, “plus” keep up all the chores and tasks at home that I did. The other races’ women can stay home: Jews for they are rich, Yellow Chinese Communists for they come to USA at the “top” of the ladder, not as the Irish, Polish that came at the “bottom” of the ladder and had to work our way up. And some of our people stayed at the bottom thru intentional forces in USA to turns us into drug and pill addicts.
From this record, my Daddy and Mama were “White.” That is something we took for granted and never protected as other races have done throughout history. If a White person mates with a non-White person, that pure White blood line is gone forever. Mama breast fed me as she did all her other children. Most women at that time were already into baby formula, which is sugar followed by 22 drugs, and then we wonder why there is an obese problem in this country. And then she carried me into her arms into the old farm house that was moved at 8332 S. Colfax.
When studying ancestry, which began around 2001, I went to the Harold Washington Library in Chicago, the largest in the world, and studied the microfilms there to see what the news was like on August 21, 1947. Here are some clippings. It is ironic for Lil’ Orphan Annie, one of my costumed karaoke characters, says “But is it LIBEL if it is TRUE!” And it is heartening to know that as difficult as it was to study the topics of my life, they are all true. And what I say to expose others is also TRUE. I think today, we are in danger, of not knowing what is true or false, fact or fiction, fiction or non-fiction. Even our news today, which has been hi-jacked by Jews since before 1898, writes of events that were “created” like Hollywood productions. For example: when the Jews of Israel shot up, bombed, and massacred 36 (White) men on the USS Liberty for no reason, and then went to sink it, had they been victorious, the Israelis were going to blame the Egyptians. It was only the great mind of God that must have moved the shipmate to find a way to send a radio signal by adjoining some wires, after the Jews destroyed the radio room, and get the ship some help. It was also odd that when the men of the ship went back to US and were interviewed, they were told by the Admiral of the Army to keep it secret and not tell a soul. It was a twist of fate, that two of them met 10 years later, and began writing and speaking about it. Yet if the Jewish news reported it to us, and told us that Egypt had sunk the ship, and get us agitated to go to war, that would be “lies.” But we would have believed it as truth. If something that evil happened and we believed it, think of what we believe as news that is being manufactured. More on the USS Liberty later.
Note the date above the newspaper 8-21-47, my birth date, and I copied it from microfilms at Harold Washington Library, Chicago.
The Lil’ Orphan Annie cartoon reads and it starts with the editor, I believe, of the newspaper saying:
Editor: “Where did you get this paper Annie?”
Annie: “Oh, it’s this week’s issue of Joe Christmas’ paper “Christmas Day.”
Editor: “Man sounds like a Communist or Facist or something… the things he says about our town council … Mayor… and especially Jerry Gaws… Why this is libel!”
Annie: “Is it libel if it’s true?”
Editor: “But Annie, true or not, why does this Joe Christmas have to stir up everybody. Why can’t we just let sleeping dogs lie.”
Here are the headlines for the day, “No Sign of Depression,” (or financial depression for USA) but just hold on to your seat as you read into my story, perhaps the worse human depression in US or even world history.
Mama brought me to a tiny home which my Auntie Mary had owned. We lived upstairs, and Grandpa Kopaczewski, lived with us. Mama adored her father, and even though she worked hard slaving for rich Jews, she’d come home and cook him his favorite dish: Duck’s Blood Soup! I know Mama used to force it down my throat, but she didn’t use “psychology” on how to raise us, she did it forcibly, no questions asked. I used to hate it, and hate my mother, sadly to say, and only thru these lengthy 25,000 pages of journal writing, was I able to take 10 years to work thru my problems. I realized that Mama did that because in Poland, as slaves for Jews, we had to be very physical, plowing the fields to give them food, etc. Also, by having large families, there were more White Polish slaves for war and cheap labor for Jews and Europe. Duck’s Blood, like liver, another of Mama’s specialties had loads of iron and B12, 800% of our daily requirement. That didn’t faze me at first, for in USA, we have been trained to disregard our parents’ advice, which is sad, for other races don’t do that. But thru study I learned that when a woman gets pregnant, she no longer gets her menstrual period with the release of blood. That “blood” goes into the development of a healthy baby. Also, when a woman breast feeds, she doesn’t get a period, for that blood that would be discarded goes into the mother’s milk, the only perfect food for humans. It would do well for our White girls and women to heed these signs of nature when they think of having babies. I read that a woman who is a Vegas and breastfeeds, because of the lack of meat, the baby could go into convulsions, coma, even a coffin.
Mama was so generous and kind to all she met and people would flock to our home for Mama’s meals, coffee with egg as campers would make, but most of all, the conversation in a busy, industrious Polish neighborhood. Daddy once told me “You’re mother is an angel. There is no one like her in the world. She has a heart of gold.” That statement, coming from my Daddy, who worked directly for Fr. Baker, Our Lady of Victory, who is set to be the first male saint in USA’s history, carries a lot of weight into sewing my past into a complete costume.
My dear Mama would work and slave for low wages for rich Jewish doctor’s wives, who historically speaking leave all their menial work for their slaves. They did that to my ancestors of Poland, where Jews were our masters for 900 years. It helped them become so powerful, even all-powerful today, characteristics we once assigned to our God and creator. It was only Poland that had an entire country of slaves with just the few Nobles at the top, who were indebted to Jewish bankers and businessmen. It was why Jesus whipped the Jews out of the synagogue as recorded in the New Testament. And Jesus never forgave the Jews. Jesus says on the cross, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” But the next sentence says, “They parted his garments.” The “them” Jesus forgives, I believe, is the White Roman soldiers that were forced by Jews to do their dirty work, as today, USA, is subservient to Jew’s desire for constant wars, as it was also in Poland under their dynasty for that same 900 years. In my reasoning, Jesus never forgave the Jews, and it is why Jews hate Christians today and want to destroy it and genocide the White species.
As I reminisce, I wonder if Mama had to give the Jewish men sex, as many German White women did before Adolf Hitler exposed that and warned of this danger to the females. He even taught them to do police reports immediately, and through those police reports, the first Jews were deported from Germany, not gassed in chambers. But who knew of that?
Our home was a “shack of a house,” as I described when I was on the #1 nighttime talk radio show, “George Noory’s, Coast to Coast.” Although there is some controversial subject matter on that midnight show, I actually believe I grew up in a Haunted House! And it was right under the noses of a very middle class, South Chicago neighborhood. Even my deceased brother, Eddie, who was an English School teacher, wrote a play, which my son starred in, called 8332 South Colfax. It was creatively speaking a “haunted musical!” There were many spooky parts which the 8th grade actors and actresses sang and danced to as well as acted. It’s amazing how he was able to display a production of questionable content as the other world, into this world show.
Here is the actual wording to describe briefly of what it was like to grow up in a Haunted House, which eventually burned to the ground, on the George Noory #1 Coast to Coast late night radio show!

October 30, 2009

This is a true story about “Pa-knee Gurrsko” the witch from South Chicago.

I have a firm conviction that spirits can not only be seen as a ghost, or heard as a knock, but “smelled” or “felt.”

Since I’m writing my autobiography about growing up in a family of 15 in South Chicago, I’m the baby girl; I have these stories fresh in my mind from my memoirs.

Way back in the early 1950’s, when I was a little girl, we were extremely poverty stricken.  Daddy only made minimum wage to raise this family of 15, where my Grandpa, a Polish Russian General also lived with us.

So, there was no money for doctors; we were lucky we had food and didn’t starve to death.  It was an unusual story, especially in America.  There were no handouts.

Well, Mama’s body hurt all the time from working full time, breastfeeding, and giving royal treatment to Daddy and her father.  When she didn’t have success with doctors, she consulted with a witch, Panee Gorrsko.  This woman would introduce my mother to various strange herbs to drink.  I was scared of this woman, for she really looked like a witch. She would come to our home regularly and sit with Mama and chat and drink these strange herbs.

This witch wore a black woolen cape to the ground and a black veil on her head. She was very old, very old, but had blonde hair, but mostly white growing in.  She had a cackly voice also.  Her face glowed!

What was strange was that she had the most unusual “smell” that I have ever smelled.  It was foul, but not in a human sense. It smelled something awful that I have never before or since ever whiffed in my life.  It was like the smell of evil.

I tried to warn Mama of the evil smell, but Mama loved everyone and thought it was my “childhood imagination.”

Well, I guess witches don’t make a lot of money, so she asked my Mama if she could live with us, and sleep in our old basement. The basement was also ancient, with spiders and mice, a pull-chain toilet, and just outright creepy.  It was under an old farm house Grandpa moved on a trailer and dropped into South Chicago.  I grew up in the closest thing to a haunted house that you can imagine.

(I didn’t mention on the air that my sister, Rosemary, saw my dead grandma, Helen Kopaczewski, several times in the basement when Grandma appeared to her.)

(George Norry said: Sounds like the Addams family house, and I agreed.)

Having all these children, Mama said “no,” as we only had 2 bedrooms in this old and decrepit shack-of-a-house.  The witch insisted and threatened Mama that if she didn’t get to live there, she would bring down a curse on her, her husband, and her children, all 12 of them.

Mama got rid of her, but before she left she screamed out to the universe a horrible curse that would harm all of us.

Well, time went by, and no one ever talked about her. She was history. Then creepy things started to beset our very poor, but very happy family.

Although we were all physically strong, one by one, we started to succumb to mental or emotional illness, probably due to severe malnutrition and starvation.  My father and mother who had a marriage made in heaven, and even Daddy said my Mama was a saint, they started to battle, literally fist fighting each other. It was as if bad spirit(s) possessed them, and started to possess each one of us.  It was a mental influence that we could not fight off with drugs, or psychiatrists, psychologists, or group meetings.  And it was like a domino theory, and no matter how talented we were, or attractive, or smart, this curse just appeared on each one.

The curse started when Mama lost 3 of her babies.  Our house burned down, suicide attempts, alcoholism, severe depression, insanity.  Even the Chicago Police said that they had never seen so many police reports for one home.

That was over 55 years ago, and I have lived to see unbelievable torment, that I have never seen in a large family. We sure were not like the “Cheaper by the Dozen,” movie, but something out of a gothic horror novel. Only it was ‘real.’

After Mama died, I think she took the curse with her to the grave, for now all of us are functioning much better, although scarred by it. None of my siblings would ever say that our emotional and mental problems were caused by this witch with the smell from hell, but in retrospect of my memoir writings, it now makes sense to me.

That ends my appearance on talk radio and since my siblings were going through the same thing, I never challenged it. We were taught that as long as we had pride, being poor was something that was not to be ashamed of. Daddy and Mama thought that each new child was more than these trillions of dollars that we so frequently hear of on news today. Where neighbors valued a shiny new car parked in front of their house for all the other neighbors to see through peeking through curtains to see it arrive, my folks thought of each new white Polish baby like that. Yes, did the same neighbors part their curtains to see Mama carrying a new bundle of joy, or did they dread it? Did they gossip?

By the time I arrived there were 11 in our home. Grandpa not only fought in European wars, was the chief engineer on the EJE railroad, he had 14 children of his own and helped raise Mama’s 12, for a grand total of 26 children. One would think a big, tall military man as he wouldn’t want to be around children, but Mama said he would put me in a buggy and take me out every afternoon for a stroll. Also, when Mama went to work for the rich Jewish doctor’s wives, she would take a breast pump, back in 1949, and express her milk in a baby bottle. Or, sometimes if we didn’t have those, Mama would use an old Pepsi bottle and put a rubber nipple on it. Since it is hard to express a large volume of milk, Mama added, believe it or not, strong coffee with egg as she liked to make to my baby bottle. I reason now, that perhaps it was mostly coffee. Through later research and reasoning, I discovered that the “Slav” or “Slave” countries of Eastern Europe often did that. It was probably necessary to get as much work as possible from each slave to maximize the profits of business.

When my brother was born premature, Mama was so adamant about breastfeeding, which is the only perfect food for humans, that she would express it with the breast pump, and my sisters take several buses to take it to her newborn baby who was still fighting for his life at Michael Reese hospital on Chicago’s lake front. My sister told me they had to do that every single day during his long stay in the hospital. Most women after the war were into baby formula, since most had gone to work for World War II to replace the jobs the men were doing that were forced to fight their White brethren in Europe.

But my folks never complained, and our home was a joyful one. There was a movie and TV show years ago, “I Remember Mama” originally called Mama’s Bank Account about a Norwegian family that emigrated from Europe to San Francisco.

Here’s from Wikipedia. org on that show: “The film begins with eldest daughter Katrin completing the last lines of her autobiographical novel. As she reminisces about her family life, we flashback to 1910, where the first of a series of vignettes finds Marta Hanson preparing the weekly budget with assistance from her husband Lars, daughters Katrin, Christine and Dagmar, and son Nels, who announces his desire to attend high school. Each family member offers to make a financial sacrifice to contribute to the boy’s education.”
But I would compare our poverty stricken home, with too many kids, to this nice, organized Norwegian family, and realized early in life, we Nowaks were not like the rest. But after watching it closely today, not with the mind before, but the present mind, I see that Jews produced the shows as the one called Queen Bee. There is so much Jewish subliminal propaganda against Whites in this case the Norwegians set in 1910, right before the Jewish Federal Reserve Bank, Jewish IRS, created in 1913, to have a war chest for World War I. On YouTube, com, in this clip, the young daughter, winces in pain and tears as she misses the word “feudal” and that means “The land has been conquered from enemies that did not fight.” And the Jews were and are our White enemies and they have conquered us for we never resisted them, their laws, their deceit, banking, wars and rapes, and our enslavement!

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *