SUMMER 2014
This issue of Slovo honors Josef and Frantisˇka Svoboda, who braved traveling across 1939 Bohemia, Moravia and Nazi Germany to start a new life in America during very difficult times. It is sponsored by their son and his wife, Ludvik and Katherine Svoboda.
Josef and Frantis˘ka Svoboda on Josef’s 50th birthday.
A Publication of the
VOLUME 15 b NUMBER 1 SUMMER 2014
FROM THE PUBLISHER
2
CONTRIBUTORS
3
FEATURES: Revolutionary Transformation 1894-1939: The Bata Company’s Beginnings and Its Golden Era
4
By Dr. Zachary Doleshal, history lecturer at Sam Houston State University. A look at Czechoslovakia’s pre-eminent company town, Zlín, from 1894 to 1939.
From Czechoslovakia to a New America: Memories of Growing Up a Bata Baby
8
By Ludvik Z. Svoboda, whose father helped establish the first Bata Shoe factory in America, in Belcamp, Maryland.
A Boy, A Company, A Town: Building a New Life and a Shoe Company In Batawa, Canada
15
By Anthony (Tony) Daicar, a native of Zlín, Czechoslovakia, whose parents worked for Bata Shoe Company in Batawa, Canada.
A Connoisseur of Shoes: Designer, Collector & Fashion Icon Sonja Bata
19
By Sherry Crawford
MUSEUM SHOWCASE
22
Bata Today: A Global Leader in Shoe Manufacturing, Retailing and Design
24
By Sherry Crawford
Growing Up In Batawa, Ontario: Memories of the Bata Shoe Company In Canada
25
By Ernest Melichar, whose father helped build Batawa village housing and Bata factory buildings, and also built and ran his own service station.
Bata’s Influence On Architecture: Zlín and the Invention of the Panel Building
Slovo is published biannually by the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library. The editor welcomes research articles and essays written for a popular audience that address Czech & Slovak history and culture. Please address inquiries to Editor, Slovo, 1400 Inspiration Place SW, Cedar Rapids, IA 52404. Publisher: Gail Naughton Editor: Sherry Crawford Curator: Stefanie Kohn Librarian: David Muhlena Educator: Jan Stoffer COO: Leah Wilson Design: WDG Communications Inc.
Slovo = Word
28
By Kimberly Elman Zarecor, Associate Professor of Architecture and Director of the Bachelor of Design Program in the College of Design at Iowa State University.
MUSEUM EVENTS
Cover image: Bata poster, 1961. This graphic poster was done by Swiss designer Herbert Leupin (1916-1999), who became one of the most important poster artists in Switzerland. He became famous for his innovative figures and his fresh and colorful style.
Slovo is available as a benefit to members
of the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library. Individual memberships: $35 for one year. For information, write to the NCSML, 1400 Inspiration Place SW, Cedar Rapids, IA 52404; call (319) 362-8500; or visit our website at www.NCSML.org.
ISSN 1545-0082
32
Copyright © 2014 National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
C A L E N DA R
R EV I EW S
2 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
museum S CRAP B OOK
Or e-mail to: gnaughton@NCSML.org
F E ATU RE S
Please send your letters to: Editor, Slovo 1400 Inspiration Place SW Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52404
RE V IE W S
RE V IE W S
We encourage discussion of the issues and stories presented in Slovo.
C O N T R IB UT O R S
DIG E S T
Letters to the Editor
An unexpected web of connections, stories and coincidences has resulted in a fascinating issue of Slovo. It all started when Lou Svoboda told us his Bata story. His family came to the United States in 1939 as part of the Bata Shoe Company to open a factory in Belcamp, Maryland. What made the discovery of Lou’s story even more exciting was his wealth of memorabilia — photos, the original list of what the family was to pack, tickets, letters, etc. — much of which was in meticulously maintained albums. It seems that many people have Bata stories. As we were working on the issue, Ernie Melichar, a member of our board of directors, happened to mention that he grew up in Canada and lived in Batawa for a time while his father worked at the factory. What’s more, he introduced us to his friend, Tony Daicar, who also shared his story. Now we had both the Canadian and U.S. perspectives. Fortune persisted when we contacted Sonja Bata, widow of Thomas Bata and founder of the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto, who graciously agreed to be interviewed. The results of her lifetime of travel and collecting form the heart of the shoe museum and Mrs. Bata continues to add to the collection. Contacts at the museum, which will celebrate its 20th anniversary in 2015, provided photos of some of their extraordinary collection to show what can come of a devotion to fashion for the foot. One of the remarkable parts of the Bata story tells about the creation of company towns, which provided the social center for the workers. In North America, this was especially important for new immigrants who were isolated by language and workplace. The consummate Bata company town was Zlín, Czechoslovakia, which rose and fell along with the fortunes of the company during the turbulent war and postwar years. Author Kimberly Elman Zarecor examines the housing legacy of the Bata Company which paradoxically became the inspiration for the ubiquitous panelák buildings identified with the communist era. Zachary Doleshal delves into the early history which sets the stage for our examination of the incomparable Bata Shoe Company. While exciting and fulfilling, work on this edition was bittersweet. Our longtime editor, Sher Jasperse, passed away on March 13, 2014. A wonderful writer and poet, Sher led the development and production of 22 issues of Slovo with flair, finesse and an emphasis on providing flawless editions with a variety of rich and entertaining content. She was a consummate professional who engaged countless authors and scholars in her work, developing quite an expertise of her own on Czech and Slovak history and culture. We have been truly blessed by Sher’s sunny presence and devotion to the NCSML. She leaves a large hole in our team at the museum and library and will be greatly missed. museum S CRAP B OOK
P RE VIE W
President / CEO National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
INTE RVIE W
from the P U B L IS H E R
Gail Naughton
FROM THE PUBLISHER
Note: Bat’a/Bata The Czech spelling and pronunciation of Bat’a differs from what is now considered the universal spelling of the family name: Bata. The founder of the company, Tomás˘ Bat’a, will be referred to with the original, Czech version of the family name. Elsewhere in this issue, references to the son and grandson — Thomas J. Bata and Thomas G. Bata — and the company will use the universal version: Bata.
Ludvik Z. Svoboda (From Czechoslovakia to a New America: Memories of Growing Up a Bata Baby) was born in Baltimore (1940) six months after his family came to the United States. They were among 72 Czechs and Slovaks sent here to start the Bata Shoe Company factory business in Belcamp, Maryland. He grew up immersed in a small community where Czech and Slovak traditions ruled their private lives. Earning a BS in Math and MS in Information Systems, he devoted 26 years to the US Air Force to fight communism — flying airplanes and building computer systems — but always cherishing his Czechoslovak heritage. He has been actively involved with the Society for Czechoslovak Philately for 40 years (past-president, editor); collects Czech cut crystal; and he and his wife Katherine are long-time supporters of the NCSML and are Charter Members of the President’s Society. Anthony (Tony) Daicar (A Boy, a Company, a Town: Building a New Life and a Shoe Company in Batawa, Canada) was born Nov. 12, 1932, in the city of Zlín, Moravia, Czechoslovakia, where his parents were employed at the Bata Shoe Company. The company was rapidly expanding into many countries and had become the world’s largest shoe manufacturer and retailer. Tony and his parents left Czechoslovakia in the summer of 1939 shortly after the German invasion as part of a 250-person strong contingent of Czechoslovaks who were sent to establish the Bata Shoe Co. in Canada. The town of Batawa, situated between Trenton and Frankford, Ontario, was built with two factories and 100 wartime houses and that is where Tony Daicar spent the latter part of his childhood. He graduated from the Faculty of Medicine at Queen’s University in 1957. After postgraduate studies in obstetrics and gynecology in Kingston, Toronto; Albany, NY; Oxford and Bradford, England, he returned to his Queen’s alma mater
CO N T R IBUT O R S
DIG ES T
to teach and practice in Kingston until retirement in 1996. He met his nurse/midwife bride Maggie in England. They have two sons and four grandchildren. All the family resides in Kingston. Tony and Maggie will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary at their Kingston home on the beautiful St. Lawrence River in 2015. They continue to be active tennis players and hobbyists — Maggie in designing and creating jewelry and Tony in sculpture, primarily stone carving. They spend their winters at The Maple Leaf Golf and C.C. in Port Charlotte, Florida. R EVIEWS
Zachary A. Doleshal (Revolutionary Transformation 1894-1939: The Bata Company’s Beginnings and its Golden Era) is currently a lecturer of history at Sam Houston State University. Dr. Doleshal obtained his Ph.D. in history from the University of Texas at Austin in the spring of 2012. His dissertation looked at Czechoslovakia’s pre-eminent company town, Zlín, from 1918 to 1942. He is currently transforming the dissertation into a monograph. Dr. Doleshal is broadly interested in issues of identification, disciplinary systems and social engineering. His field is modern Europe. His next two projects will deal with shopping in Central Europe during the interwar period, and a study of Zlín from 1945 to 1990, which will be a collaborative project with researchers in the Czech Republic.
R EVIEWS
CONTRIBUTORS
Ernest Melichar (Growing Up In Batawa, Ontario: Memories of the Bata Shoe Company in Canada), a member of the board of directors for the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library, was born in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, in 1936. He came to the United States in 1946 and became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1955. Early this year, he retired as director of planned giving at The John Marshall Law School in Chicago, where he also served for the past 23 years as a coordinator of the law school’s Czech and Slovak Legal program. His previous 30 years of business experience include business publishing and financial services. He is a retired officer of the United States Air Force Reserve. His civic and cultural activities include Past President of the Council of Higher Education, Past President of the Moravian Cultural Society and other civic committees in Riverside, Illinois, as well as New Buffalo and Berrien County, Michigan, where he currently resides. He has a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree from the Medill School of Journalism, Northwestern University. Kimberly Elman Zarecor (Bata’s Influence On Architechture: Zlín and the Invention of the Panel Building) is Associate Professor of Architecture and Director of the Bachelor of Design Program in the College of Design at Iowa State University, where she teaches courses in architectural history and design. She holds a Master of Architecture degree (1999) and Ph.D. (2008) from the Graduate School of Architecture, Planning and Preservation at Columbia University. Her research examines the cultural and technological history of architecture and urbanism in the former Czechoslovakia. She is the author of Manufacturing a Socialist Modernity: Housing in Czechoslovakia, 1945-1960, published by the University of Pittsburgh Press in 2011. A Czech translation of the book will appear later this year with Academia Press. Her work has also appeared in Architektúra & urbanizmus, East European Politics and Society and Home Cultures, as well as a number of edited volumes and conference proceedings.
Slovo | 3
F E ATU RE S
Revolutionary transformation 1894-1939:
THE BATA COMPANY’S BEGINNINGS AND ITS GOLDEN ERA
By Zachary Doleshal
museum S CRAP B OOK
C A L E N DA R
Tomás˘, Antonín and their sister Anna Bat’a, who together founded the T. & A. Bata Shoe Company in 1894.
Tomás˘ Bat’a (1876 – 1932), a Czech entrepreneur, eventually bought out his siblings to become the sole proprietor of the shoe company.
R EV I EW S 4 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
Captivated by a vision of a rationalized industrial society where man and machine, family and factory, worked together seamlessly, the Bata (originally spelled Bat’a) Company in the interwar period (1918-1939) embarked on one of the most ambitious social engineering projects a private company has ever attempted. The attempt brought dramatic and rapid change to the everyday lives of the people of the Drˇevnice valley, revolutionizing Zlín and transforming the ways in which people bought and made shoes throughout Europe. In essence, particularly in Zlín, Bata created a company-run society, which held strikingly new determinants for inclusion and exclusion. Instead of religion, class and nationality, the company’s ideology — Bataism — held sobriety, appearance, work ethic and, above all, loyalty to the corporation as the key traits of the Bataman and Batawoman. And the company went to great lengths to inculcate these traits into its workforce. Of course, this transnational company philosophy was at all times complicated by and embedded within the context of interwar Czechoslovakia. Still, life in Zlín offered an arresting alternative to the peoples of Central Europe — a place far removed from the rural rhythms of its southern Moravian setting. What follows will briefly outline how the company came to embark on its modernist project and why its efforts were nothing short of revolutionary. The Bata factory began as a family enterprise in 1894 when Tomáš Bat’a, along with his sister and brother, established a small shoe factory in Zlín using an endowment from their father, Antonín. The factory grew steadily, employing 250 workers and became the eighth largest shoe company in Austria-Hungary by 1903. What set Bat’a apart from his competitors was his willingness to adopt new techniques and make new styles of shoes. He invented the revolutionary seglaky, also known as Batovky, which was the first all-canvas shoe in Europe. Cheap to make and meant to be discarded after a few months, the shoe caused considerable uproar among shoe makers at the time, but proved widely popular with customers who enjoyed the shoe’s light weight, availability and price. Using money gained from the success of the seglaky, Tomáš traveled through Germany and the United States to learn the latest developments in shoe manufacturing. In 1904, Tomáš journeyed to the United States with a handful of other employees to study American shoe manufacturing. Tomáš would later describe the experience as transformative: “I observed the shirt sleeves rolled up and the work being done with a smile. A father would look upon his six-year-old son as big enough to go into business for himself, and to handle the money he earned. That is how he learned to be independent.” On top of learning about the latest in shoe manufacturing, it seems that Bat’a wholeheartedly took on the identity of the American self-made man. When he returned, he bought out his siblings and became sole proprietor of the company. A few years later, after the outbreak of the First World War,
Bat’a won a contract to supply army boots to the Austrian military by travelling to Vienna and doggedly pursuing Austrian authorities. The contract led to an immediate expansion and the company’s payroll soared to include some 5,000 employees by 1917. The exigencies of World War I also led to Bat’a’s first serious foray into vertical organization, when he was forced to spend considerable energy guaranteeing supplies of both food and materials. As a result, the company bought significant farmland and cattle ranches in the region. During the tough economic times that followed the war, the company let thousands of employees go and warehouses began filling with unsold Bata shoes. Bat’a travelled again to America, where he visited Henry Ford’s River Rouge factory in Detroit. While being deeply impressed by the vertical organization, assembly process and Taylorization of the Ford Motor Company, Bat’a was no less influenced by the character of Henry Ford. In the words of longtime company propagandist and Bat’a biographer Antony Cekota, “In Ford’s simple, puritanical manners … he found a living example of his own basic principles.” Upon his return, Tomáš and his managers decided on the radical solution to cut shoe prices in half, as well as all wages. In return, the company offered workers drastically reduced food prices in company canteens as well as the promise of company-built housing. This was the second major step to becoming a welfare capitalist society, where the company would provide all of life’s necessities. The measures were a resounding success as the company’s workforce and profits began to expand again by 1923. Also in 1923, the company formed its own political party to run in the local elections. With Tomáš at its head and loyal workers on the slate of candidates, the Batovci, or Bata people, promised to manage the municipality along scientific lines. To them, scientific management meant vastly improving the town’s infrastructure and overhauling education. It also meant more parks and company-approved social spaces, like libraries, theaters and sporting venues. In addition, the Batovci promised a tightening of the town’s morality laws by closing down bars and restricting liquor licenses. They vowed to eliminate the oftentimes bitter feuds between political parties that dominated the political life of Zlín after World War I by supplanting them with the top-down structure of the company. The Batovci won handily and the town’s affairs merged with that of the company’s.
The Bata factory building in Zlín two years after its completion. At the time, the proto-functionalist building was in stark contrast to the rest of Zlín. An early example of a Bata seglaky shoe (also known as Batovky).
Bata shoe store, circa 1920.
Slovo | 5
Aerial view of the Bata complex in Zlín, 1937, from the south. At the center of the photo is Labor Square (Náme˘stí Práce).
A Bata advertising poster from Czechoslovakia, 1935.
6 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
Some four years after the Batovcis’ victory in the local elections, the company introduced a full assembly line process for the production of shoes and implemented its unique management system. Both of these developments created a period of explosive growth. The management system, invented by executive Dominik Cˇipera, created thousands of small, 10-15 person units inside of larger departments. Each unit competed against each other in a race to produce the cheapest and best item they were assigned. The system encouraged quality and timely work with monetary rewards and special privileges. The adoption of the assembly line for shoes was also unique to the company at the time. By 1930 the company had machines for every part of the production process and each machine had its own interchangeable motor. While reluctant to patent many of these breakthroughs, the company nevertheless became pioneers in shoe production, creating a highly flexible and mechanized system capable of exponential expansion. The expanding company met with another serious challenge when nations worldwide implemented drastically high tariffs at the end of the 1920s. Bata, a major exporter of shoes, was faced with a dilemma. As in the past, the company adapted to the situation with considerable boldness. The company’s solution was to export its factory model to its markets and build mini-Zlíns across the world. From India to England, these factory towns allowed the company to circumvent high tariffs and respond to the tastes and economies of regional markets. On July 12, 1932, just as the company seemed assured to survive the Great Depression in an even stronger position, Tomáš died in a plane crash on his way from Zlín to Switzerland. His half-brother, Jan, took control. Jan proved to be significantly different than Tomáš in his interests and management style, but he also proved to be a highly effective leader,
as the company expanded nearly three-fold from his takeover in 1932 until the outbreak of the Second World War. By 1939, when Jan fled the now Nazi-occupied Moravia, the Bata Company employed more than 64,000, ran 5,000 retail stores and operated 25 factories in 11 countries across the globe. It had become the largest shoe manufacturer in the world, with the ability to produce half a million pairs of shoes a day. In addition, the company produced tires, toys, electric motors and even airplanes, as well as the largest import-export business in Czechoslovakia, Kotva. Before the outbreak of the Second World War, Bata accounted for a staggering 60 percent of all exports from Czechoslovakia. The unrivaled success had much to do with Tomáš’ willingness to adopt Fordist and Taylorist principles for manufacturing and the company’s commitment to the welfare capitalist company town model, which greatly reduced dissent and stabilized an industrial workforce. Like the other welfare capitalist shoe enterprise in the world, the Endicott-Johnson Company of New York State, Bata strove to be completely vertically integrated. Bata-owned farms produced eggs and milk that Bata employees ate at Bata-run canteens. Yet Bata was much more than mimicry, for the company developed its own management system, its own pricing plan — the now ubiquitous 99 pricing model — and its own architectural style — the famed Bata functionalism of brick, iron and glass. From 1923, when Bata men swept the municipal elections of Zlín and essentially eliminated all political parties from local contests, to the appointment of Dominik Cˇipera as Minister for Public Works in 1938, a position of considerable power in post-Munich Czecho-Slovakia, the Bata Company advocated for a radically modern agenda. Throughout the interwar period, Bata men vociferously called for public works projects inside Czechoslovakia using conscription labor. They argued for the elimination of all “politics” and their replacement by scientific management. They sought to radically remake the country into a densely populated, thoroughly integrated modern state through parental incentives, country-wide infrastructure programs and the elimination of local difference. All of these considerations meant that the Bata Company’s grafting of American industrial philosophies onto Moravian soil would lead to a uniquely Central European brand of welfare capitalism.
Bata Hospital in Zlín, 1930. Bata headquarters in 1934.
Labor Square (Náme˘stí Práce) during the Bata Mayday Celebrations in 1937.
b
Slovo | 7
From Czechoslovakia to a New America:
MEMORIES OF GROWING UP A BATA BABY By Ludvik Z. Svoboda
The author, Ludvik (Lou) Svoboda, in his home in Aurora, Colorado.
Workers’ colonies of Bata factory in Zlín, Czechoslovakia.
8 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
I am here because my parents made a great leap of faith. Both of my parents come from Moravia. My father, Josef (born in 1912), was the second of five children from a family of a masonry worker. They lived in a small house in Knínice. When he started meˇsˇt’ánka (high school), he had to walk about three kilometers each way. Fortunately, the family then moved to Olomouc, where he continued his schooling until he was 15 (I have most of his school report cards — vysveˇdcˇení). My mother, Frantisˇka (born in 1916), was the sixth of nine children from the family of a shoemaker and part-time farmer. They lived in a row house in Hulín. They were a very religious family; priests were frequent visitors, and the family went to Catholic Mass daily. With three older sisters, she was always dressed in hand-me-downs until she left home after school to work. In his last year of meˇsˇt’ánka, 1928, my father was chosen by Tomáš Bat’a for young executive training at the home factory in Zlín. It was a very rigorous program. They got up at 5:30 a.m., did 30 minutes of physical exercise (Sokol), showered, got dressed, ate at 6:30 and were at the factory/school by 7 a.m. In the mornings, they learned all aspects of the shoe-making business: planning, production, sales, leather tanning, machine shop, etc. After lunch, they worked in the shoe production business to get hands-on experience. In the evenings, they attended “business college,” where they learned German, a second language (my father chose English) and all standard business courses. My father specialized in production and cost accounting. He received a small salary and the life was very regimented. He lived in a young men’s dormitory. After three years, he graduated at age 19. He then worked in various areas of the factory until his two-year military commitment. He served in Komarno, Slovakia, facing the Hungarian border. When she was 17, my mother went to Zlín to work in the Bata factory, doing piece work, sewing leather goods. Like my father, she lived in a women’s dormitory, got up early for Sokol, cleaning up, eating and then work. She shared a room with father’s sister, Anna, also working there. This is how my mother learned about my father. She first met him at a dance held in a garden when she was 18. As good dancers, they hit it off immediately. She had to run not to violate the 9 p.m. curfew. Their courtship spanned 3 1/2 years. When he returned from military duty, my father worked in the cost accounting department, mostly on shoe lines for American companies like Sears, J.C. Penney and Montgomery Ward. Because of my father’s expertise in accounting (by now he was a CPA) with these companies and his knowledge of English, he was chosen as part of a small group to go to the U.S. in 1937 for three months to find and purchase a location for a shoe factory, which became Belcamp. During the 1920’s and 1930’s, despite the world recession, Bata expanded by building factories and other shoe-related enterprises all over the world. My father’s group traveled on the HMS Queen Mary. He was
very impressed with the U.S. Upon his return, my parents were married (you can see their wedding picture on the back cover of the Summer 2013 Slovo). My brother George was born not long after. Life in Zlín was very good, especially compared to Czechoslovakia and the rest of the world. Times were especially good for young, ambitious people who worked hard. Father worked long hours, but made a good salary and saved money. Zlín had everything workers needed. Because my father was a young executive, my parents lived in a new duplex house at very low rent. They were provided a telephone, radio, washing machine and other items such as a mangle for ironing large items like bed sheets. While their life was going very well, the rest of Europe was convulsing from the Nazis gobbling up land and countries. In August 1938, my father was called back to the military to serve along the southwestern border in the Sˇumava mountains because of the upheavals triggered by the Sudeten Germans. With the Munich Accord in September 1938, my father said it was the only time that he saw grown men break down and cry. Then on March 15, 1939, the Germans moved in and took over the remainder of Czechoslovakia. The company and people could see that bad times and war were coming. With Bata headquarters moving to Canada, a contingent of key Bata people — including my parents — was sent to the U.S. to build a shoe factory to continue shoe production for American clients. Mother’s family was very upset and tried to convince her not to go, especially since she had a young son. They cited world upheaval and possibility of war, a new land with unknown prospects, her not knowing any English, leaving what wealth they had managed to accrue behind and being essentially cut off from the main company. They asked her to at least leave my brother there with them until they got settled. But she brushed this all off for the opportunity of a new land and new life. It was exciting for her. Those heading to the U.S. were given a list of items they could bring (knives, forks, sheets, shirts, underwear, etc.), all to be placed in a large wooden box for the trip. Personal items they could not bring were on another list; these would be kept in storage for their return. In previous factory start-ups in other countries, families stayed for about five years until the local employees had learned the business. Then the families returned home.
The author’s parents (father carrying older brother George) as they board the Bremen, a ship going to America, August 4, 1939. Two lists — one of the items which were to stay in Czechoslovakia, and one of the items to be shipped to the U.S. — were provided to each family making the journey. The list containing shipped items was certified by the Ministry of Defense as to the value of the items, as well as being certified by six other city, county and state offices.
Slovo | 9
Part of the Bata group of families aboard the Bremen that made the journey from Czechoslovakia to the U.S. Ludvik’s father is fourth from the left in the third row, his mother is right of center in the same row holding his brother George, August 1939.
Post card sent from the Bremen to Frantis˘ka’s brother, Gusta Rozsypal.
10 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
It is really amazing that the families were allowed to leave at all. They left by train from Prague Aug. 1, 1939. By then, the Nazis had been in complete control for five months, arresting leaders, seizing companies and homes and forbidding people from emigrating or even moving around. The train trip across Germany to Bremerhaven was accompanied by constant fear. At every stop, German soldiers and the Gestapo were everywhere reviewing paperwork, finding fault when all was in order and snatching people off of the train for no apparent reason. Somehow everyone made it to the seaport. There, the “good” Nazi stevedores stenciled large swastikas on the boxes holding the families’ goods. The families and boxes were loaded on the German passenger liner Bremen. It would turn out to be the last German ship to leave Europe before WWII started. The trip across the Atlantic was difficult, especially for my mother who was three months pregnant with me (I have often thought about getting a tattoo on my lower back which says “Made in Czechoslovakia”). The ship arrived in New York harbor on August 11, just about two weeks before WWII started. From there, the families were taken by bus to Maryland. Belcamp was built in the middle of farmland and forests about 30 miles northeast of Baltimore, on the tidal Bush River. There were 200- to 300-year-old oak trees along the river. The factory and other buildings were still being built. The local people were very suspicious of the purpose of this facility. Here were people coming in from Europe from a country then controlled by the Germans, very few of whom spoke English, and their goods were coming on open flat-bed trucks with swastikas on the sides of the boxes. They did not receive a warm welcome.
Thus, life in Belcamp was very difficult. They were isolated, had to fend for themselves and had great difficulty getting contracts for shoe production — until they landed a contract to make boots for soldiers. The buildings followed the designs used in the construction of Zlín. Belcamp consisted of the factory (five stories with lots of windows on the outside walls to let in the light), a five-story hotel for single workers, about 18 duplex houses, a four-story warehouse and a number of existing houses on the waterfront. The factory stood next to Route 40, with a large red oval sign with large white letters saying “BATA.” Everything revolved around the factory. It had a compressed air whistle that blew at 8 a.m., 12 noon and 5 p.m. every week day. You could hear it a mile away. To try to make the community self-sustaining, the hotel was the focus of non-work activities. The ground floor had (of course) a Bata shoe store, 5&10 hardware store, small grocery store, post office, small bank, restaurant, hotel reception desk, very small movie theater and club room. On the second floor, the south half was a Sokol hall and small performance theater area. Because of the isolation and total inter-dependence, we essentially became one large extended family. No family had (nor could they have afforded) a car, except for one bachelor who bought a second-hand car with pooled money. When something unusual or critical was needed, he collected money and a list and drove to Baltimore (usually on Saturday). Because the vast majority of people living in Belcamp during WWII were of Czech or Slovak origin, the community functioned like a Czechoslovak one. They celebrated all of the Czechoslovak traditions and holidays: Sokol exercises and gatherings, Silvestr (New Year’s Eve party held in the Sokol hall in the hotel), zabijácˇka (the slaughter of a pig and making all the products from it, like jitrnice, jelita, klobásy, sˇkvarky, tlacˇenka), Masopust (Mardi Gras), Velikonoce (Easter), mrskacˇka (whipping girls on the legs with plaited willow sprigs on Easter morning), Vinobrani (grape harvest), Vánoce (Christmas, celebrated on Christmas Eve). Everyone spoke Czech or Slovak. The only person in my family who spoke English was my father, until my brother started first grade in 1943. I started seriously learning English when I started school in 1946. My mother learned it when my brother and I spoke it at home. I do not remember much from the war years, except for hiding under the coffee table during air raid practices. Especially in the early years, the house
Early aerial photo of Belcamp, Maryland, showing the first U.S. Bata factory, hotel, duplexes and warehouse. Circa 1940. Bata Belcamp duplexes which were built in 1940.
Belcamp Main Street, 1941. The Svoboda family enjoys a small beach along the Bush River, 1942.
Slovo | 11
The Belcamp Sokol youngsters, 1943. The author is in the first row, with a finger in his mouth.
Belcamp duplexes that lined Main Street in 1942. Belcamp Sokol men doing calisthenics under the trees, 1948. Josef is third back in the right row.
12 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
had very little furniture, only the absolute basics. Everybody had their share of work. One of my chores was to polish all of the shoes. Every Saturday morning, I sat at the top of the cellar stairs to polish them. When the war was over, things changed quickly. Right after V-E Day, my father went to Baltimore and bought a second-hand DeSoto as our first car. We also got a party-line telephone that had eight families on it. When it rang, you had no idea if it was for you or not. When making a call, you hoped that no one was already on the line. Contact with our relatives was once again possible and we found out about the severe shortages of food and clothing at home. Every week it was my job to take about 10 packages to the post office to send food and clothing to relatives. This went on for several years. Sokol was an activity which united the entire community. We had a weekly exercise period every Tuesday evening and sometimes Saturday in the Sokol hall. In summer we had them outside, under the oak trees, where they built permanent equipment. Periodically we had slets (Sokol gatherings of several Sokol organizations) in Belcamp or at one of the other Sokol clubs in our area. Once, we participated in a national slet at Soldier Field in Chicago. I was about 15, and remember sleeping on the floor of a bus as we drove straight through. Sokol also formed the basis of social gatherings year-round, with dances and partying to celebrate local events. We also had an informal Czech school where we learned the Czech language, like in schools back home, with conjugation and writing (Czech conjugation is a nightmare). When I was 10, my father was promoted to vice-president of our factory. Since we would be doing much more entertaining, we moved out of House #7 (like in Czechoslovakia, where there were often no street names, just house numbers for your address), a duplex, and into a new house built for us on the banks of the river — House #71. My father received a lot of mail from other Bata facilities around the world and brought the envelopes home to my brother and me. We began collecting the stamps and thus learned a great deal about world geography. But when I turned about 13, I discovered girls and football, so the stamps were put away (until I was 35, when my wife bought me a Czech stamp album). Whenever workers from other factories from around the world visited, if they were Czech or Slovak, they often ended up at our house for dinner, because my mother was a fantastic cook and baker. The only exceptions were visiting presidents of the other factories, or when Thomas J. Bata came to visit. They were entertained at the president’s house, but my father and
Above: The boys proudly display their catch-of-the-day in 1953. Left: Svoboda family in 1944.
mother attended. I met Thomas J. Bata several times and even was a ball boy when he, my father and several others played tennis at our two tennis courts (built later). Living in the middle of farmland and forests and on a river, I grew up surrounded by nature. Since we were rather isolated, each of us kids had a bicycle (Schwinn Flyer — only one speed, of course, which was hard), and we ventured out to explore the world. I liked to catch large-mouth bass and we also caught blue crabs. When I was 14, in the summer we worked in the factory part-time for 25 cents an hour. At 16, we could work full-time and get regular pay. Because I was playing football and wanted to build myself up, I worked in the stock room where all of the raw materials came in. It was very hot and dirty work (my father wanted my brother and me to work in the office so we would learn the business, but we had other ideas), but it kept me in good shape over the summer. Education was extremely important to my parents. Since we lived five miles from the nearest schools (Aberdeen), for about the first eight years of my schooling I had to ride a bus (1/2 hour going, 3/4 hour coming home) to and from school. My parents insisted that when I got home, if I had any homework, it had to be done before I could play or do anything else. That really hurt, so I decided that I would put my 45 minutes to good use.
Our first car, a second-hand DeSoto, with Frantis˘ka at the wheel, 1945.
Sokol Flag Honor Guard marching to the slet. Ludvik is front row, center.
Slovo | 13
Thomas J. Bata presents Josef Svoboda with a watch to honor 25 years of faithful service, 1955.
A postcard picturing Bata during its prime in Belcamp, circa 1956.
I did as much homework on the bus as I could. You know what that led to: I was labeled a nerd. I also could not watch television after 9 p.m. and had to go to bed. But this all resulted in my doing extremely well in school. I got nothing but the best grades and graduated as valedictorian of my high school class. What saved me was that I played football (both offense and defense) and was good at it, probably because of my Sokol upbringing and conditioning. So, I was a football-playing nerd. I went to Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore and then, because my mother had told me about the terrible conditions in Czechoslovakia under the communists (she visited several times after WWII), I decided I should help defeat them, so I joined the U.S. Air Force. I flew as a navigator for 12 years (saw a lot of the world’s geography, spent time in Vietnam and accumulated almost 7,000 hours of flying time). After they sent me back to school for my master’s degree in information technology, I planned and built large computer information systems, including systems for the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Pentagon for four years. After 26 years, I retired as a colonel and the communists no longer ruled Czechoslovakia. Not bad for a “Bata Baby.”
b
14 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
A Boy, a Company, a Town:
BUILDING A NEW LIFE AND A SHOE COMPANY IN BATAWA, CANADA By Dr. Anthony Daicar
I was six when I heard the motorcycles and rushed to the street to see what was going on. The uniformed young men on the motorcycles waved; by reflex I waved back. That stopped abruptly as my tearful mother grabbed me and hauled me into the house with a warning never to do that again. This small event in my life in 1939 marked a major turning point not only for me, but for the Bata Shoe Company, the world’s largest shoe manufacturer at the time, as well as Canada and a town named Batawa in Ontario. With the signing of the Munich Agreement in September 1938, Czechoslovakia had been sold out to Hitler and the Nazis to appease Britain and her allies. On March 15, 1939, the German military invasion of Czechoslovakia was underway — including that motorcycle unit parading down my street in Zlín. Nothing would ever be the same. Zlín, a town of about 3,000 when Tomásˇ Bat’a founded his shoe manufacturing business in 1894, was a modern, well-planned city and industrial center of 40,000 by the start of World War II. Bat’a’s company, a growing global organization, was headquartered in Zlín. But dramatic events were unfolding. After Tomásˇ Bat’a died in an airplane crash in 1932, his half-brother Jan Bat’a managed the Bat’a companies until Tomásˇ Bat’a’s son, Thomas J. Bata, took over. Jan Bat’a fled to the U.S. in 1939, settling later in Brazil. Anticipating war, Thomas J. Bata decided to relocate his company to Canada. He had been there and liked what he saw. My father was a rising star in the Bata retail sales department, but for my family, Canada was a mystery. While Thomas J. Bata and his trusted employees inconspicuously packed more than 800 crates with the Zlín factories’ most valuable machinery to ship to Canada, 120 employees — most with families — were given just three days to pack up, say farewell to relatives and prepare for the journey.
An early aerial view of Batawa in Ontario, Canada.
Bata shoe factory in Batawa.
Slovo | 15
After Tomás˘ Bat’a died in an airplane crash in 1932, his half-brother Jan Bat’a (pictured here with his son) managed the Bata companies until Tomás˘ Bat’a’s son, Thomas J. Bata, took over. Thomas J. Bata, who decided to relocate the company to Canada in anticipation of war in 1939.
The new Batawa employees keep with traditions such as Sokol, which originated in Zlín, Czechoslovakia.
16 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
They travelled on a bonded train from Prague through Germany to a port city in Holland. The train windows were covered; no one except border officials were allowed on or off. I can still vividly recall an animated discussion between my father and a German officer who questioned why we were leaving Czechoslovakia at such an exciting and historic time. From Holland, the Bata group travelled to England and finally by ship to Canada, arriving in early August 1939. On Aug. 31, 1939, just four days before Britain, France, Australia and New Zealand declared war on Germany, the German freighter the S.S. Koenigsberg docked at Sorel, Quebec, carrying the equipment needed to establish the Bata factory. The ship, which also carried more than 200 crates of employees’ family possessions, arrived in Montreal Sept. 2, 1939. However, under orders from Berlin, the German captain tried to slip away during the night, back down the St. Lawrence River and back to Germany. Alerted by a vigilant Bata employee, Thomas Bata made some calls and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) were summoned. The Koenigsberg was intercepted, escorted back to Montreal and its valuable cargo was unloaded and prepared for transportation to Ontario. Thomas J. Bata envisioned creating a miniature Zlín in a rural Ontario setting, which he found in the Trent River valley near Frankford. He and future Batawa plant manager Dr. Karel Herz found 1,500 acres of pastureland between Trenton and Frankford. “At the time, this was a depressed area and the local municipalities did everything in their power to make us welcome,” Dr. Herz reflected. “It was the dedication of the people of the Trenton area that finally made the difference for us.” The countryside reminded the immigrants of Zlín. Once purchased from local farmers, the town site needed a name. Gerrit DeBruyn, a later Bata employee, explained, “On June 24, 1940, the name Batawa was selected for the new village when a group of buyers were sitting with Thomas Bata in his Frankford cottage. A man from the Eaton’s shoe department said, ‘Why not combine the Bata name with the last syllable of Ottawa? Batawa has a nice native sound.’” While Batawa wartime housing and a five-story factory were being built, the newly arrived Czech families were billeted for more than a year with neighbors in Frankford. The village that had suffered through the Depression and the closing of its paper mill was transformed by a 20 percent increase in population. Within a month, the paper mill was converted into a temporary shoe manufacturing plant. The school-age Czech children, including me, arrived in Frankford just before school started Sept. 5, 1939. Our teacher was Miss Hazel Mikel, 19, in her second year of teaching. She had her hands full, with 26 English-speaking Canadian children and 20 Czech children, ages 5 to 13, who spoke no English. The Canadian kids greeted her with “Good morning” while the Czech children chimed in with “Dobré r´ ano, Pani Ucˇitelko” (Good morning, Miss Teacher). She taught those Czech children English, with no book, aids or assistance from her principal. Her brother Doug, a high school student, drew pictures of everyday things with the names of the objects. All the students could speak enough English by Christmas to participate in that year’s Christmas concert. She also organized the students in the proper grades, by age. On Sept. 10, 1939, the Canadian government declared war against Germany. This meant that all Czechoslovaks living in Canada were labelled
as enemy aliens because they were citizens of a country occupied by Germany. As a result, they were registered, fingerprinted and required to report regularly to the RCMP. Despite all this, Thomas J. Bata offered the full resources of the Batawa plant to the war effort. The Batawa plant produced more than 48 specialized items: naval gun mounts, hydraulic components for aircraft, gyroscopes for torpedoes and primers and anti-tank shells. By 1944, more than 1,000 employees worked at the Batawa plant. After World War II, Thomas J. Bata founded Bata Development Limited to rebuild the Bata companies around the world. He led the Bata Shoe organization to an era of unprecedented growth. It once again became the world’s largest manufacturer and marketer of footwear, selling more than 300 million pairs of shoes each year and employing more than 80,000 people in 70 countries. In October 1946, Thomas married Sonja Wettstein. They soon had a son and three daughters. Sonja became an active partner in the Bata Shoe Company. In 1965, Bata moved its headquarters to Toronto into the Bata International Centre. In 2002, the Bata headquarters moved to Lausanne, Switzerland, led by Thomas G. Bata, son of Thomas J. Bata and grandson of founder Tomásˇ Bat’a. Batawa thrived as a community. Original wartime houses gave way to attractive, comfortable homes, plus public and Catholic schools, two churches, a recreation hall, grocery store, post office, bank, fire hall and ski hill. In 1999, after 60 years of production, the Bata Shoe factory closed, leaving the 110-household community questioning its future. After the factory closed, the workers who lost their jobs either retired or sought employment in neighboring communities such as Belleville or Trenton, leaving Batawa to be marketed as a residential community. In 2005 Sonja Bata created the Batawa Development Corporation (BDC) and purchased 1,500 acres in and around Batawa. She assembled a team of professionals to oversee community activities and welcome development interests. The BDC’s goal is to develop and implement a sustainable eco-friendly community plan. Since 2005, the ski hill has been revived with state-of-the-art equipment, and had its most successful season ever in 2006-07. Most recently, plans have begun to convert the factory into condominiums. I attended public and high school in Frankford and Belleville, graduating from Queen’s University Medical School in 1957. After post-graduate studies in Obstetrics and Gynecology, I returned to teach and practice in Kingston. I was the first of my 1939 class of Batawa kids to graduate from university. I am retired with my wife, Maggie, on the St. Lawrence River, carving stone sculptures while Maggie creates jewelry from semi-precious stones.
A Remarkable Reunion June 14-15, 2008, marked the reunion of more than 1,000 present and former Batawa residents. The Batawa homecoming featured an arts and crafts show, a workshop on Batawa history, an exquisite collection from the Toronto Bata Shoe Museum, the delivery of a new Batawa flag, Bata Development plans for the future and a gala dinner attended by 240. The dinner featured many toasts, traditional Czech dancers, a chamber music group and a sumptuous meal. The reunion closed with a farewell breakfast at the hillside home of Thomas and Sonja Bata. Perhaps the most meaningful event was a re-enactment of that first day of school, Sept. 5, 1939, in Frankford. The event took place in the former
A military visit to the Bata shoe factory in Batawa. The company made several specialized items for the military during the war, employing more than 1,000 workers by 1944. Thomas and Sonja cut their wedding cake in October, 1946.
Batawa wartime housing. Batawa shopping center which had a post office and Bata grocery store.
Slovo | 17
Above: The Sacred Heart School in Batawa. Right: As the Batawa community thrived, original wartime housing gave way to more attractive and comfortable housing, new schools, churches and shopping.
The Inukshuk sculpture which was presented to Thomas Bata during the homecoming festivities in 2008.
RESOUR C ES: Barrons, Ashley and Nancy File. A History of Batawa. Prepared for Batawa Development Corporation April 21 2006. Harmann, A.H. A History of the Czechs. Penquin Books, London, Great Briton. 1975. MacMillan Co., Toronto, Canada. 1944. Cekota, Anthony. Entrepreneur Extraordinary, Biography of Tomásˇ Bat’a. University Press of the International University of Social Studies, Rome, Italy. 1968 Cekota, Anthony. The Battle of Home. The Macmillan Company of Canada Limited, 1944. Bata, Thomas J. Bata Shoemaker to the World. Stoddart Publishing Co., Toronto, Canada. 1990 Faris, Mrs. Hazel (Mikel) Excerpts from her diary. Meisel John. A life of Learning and Other Pleasures: John Meisel’s Tale. Wintergren Studio Press. Yarker, Ontario. 2012 John F. Fielding, 1008-144 Barrett Court, Kingston, Ontario, K7L 5H6
18 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
Batawa United Church, complete with a classroom fitted with a teacher’s desk, blackboard, seating for the students and a school bell. Eight of the original 20 Czech “kids” and nine of the original 26 Canadian “kids,” all at least 75 years old, sat quietly in their seats and then joyfully greeted Miss Hazel Mikel — now the 88-year-old Mrs. Hazel Faris. After ringing the school bell to bring the class to order, she described how she taught 20 Czech kids to speak, write and sing in English in four months. Pictures like those her brother drew, important original teaching tools, were attached to the blackboard. She described how she had maintained discipline by learning some key Czech words, such as “tise,” which means “quiet.” Her former students shared their memories of those days and their life stories. The highlight of our reunion was the singing and dancing of a traditional Czech song called “Tancuj, Tancuj, Vykrúcaj” (Dance Around Me), a record Miss Mikel had played in her class. Thomas and Sonja Bata were sitting in the front row of the audience. When Thomas heard that song, he jumped up and joined in the song and dance, insisting on a second verse and then an encore. Less than three months later, on Sept. 1, 2008, Thomas J. Bata died suddenly at 93. At the Batawa homecoming, Thomas Bata was presented with an Inukshuk carved from marble as a gift from our group of “Batawa kids” from those old days. As part of the sculptor’s statement when presenting the gift, I said, “The Inukshuk, which means ‘the form of man,’ has been to the Inuit a marker and a guide and many Inukshuk dot the barren arctic landscape. They make the Inuits’ journeys safer and indicate where hunting and fishing is good or where shelter can be found. To the rest of Canada, the Inukshuk has become a symbol of trust, safety and reassurance within a guiding and welcoming community. In short, a symbol of home. Each stone in an Inukshuk is equally important and is placed to fit and maintain the integrity of the whole. Each stone supports and is supported by the others. The outstretched arms of the Inukshuk are spread wide, welcoming us home.” These features of the Inukshuk make it a perfect fit for the Batawa that I grew up in. Thomas Bata created the community, its people made it grow and thrive and when difficult times threatened, Sonja Bata came to guide Batawa into the future.
b
A Connoisseur of Shoes:
DESIGNER, COLLECTOR & FASHION ICON SONJA BATA By Sherry Crawford
“It’s still fun,” Sonja says of her work. “Through shoes, you can learn a lot about people.” Roloff Beny: Library and Archives, Canada.
– Sonja Bata
The perennially poised Sonja Bata on the terrace of Toronto’s Bata building in 1966.
Sonja Wettstein and Thomas J. Bata met in 1930. His father wanted to meet with her father, George, a distinguished corporate lawyer in Switzerland, to discuss establishing a holding structure for the international Bata enterprise. Sonja was three; Thomas was 15. “They were both idealists and dreamers,” Sonja says of the two patriarchs. As the two men began building the foundation for the enterprise, Sonja and Thomas formed a bond that would be the start of a remarkable life together. They didn’t see each other again until 16 years later, when Sonja was 19 and Thomas returned to Switzerland after World War II. After getting reacquainted, Sonja and Thomas soon fell in love. As Thomas remarks in his book, Bata — Shoemaker to the World, “I was swept off my feet.” The feeling was mutual, Sonja says: “Our romance started then. We married in 1946.” Sonja had studied architecture, but her husband recognized her creative talent and asked her to become part of his team overseeing the Bata Shoe organization. Competition was toughening, especially with the U.S. and Europe, and he envisioned trying a new approach. Thomas wanted to build the organization into a global enterprise, far beyond the original business in Czechoslovakia that had been nationalized by the communists after World War II.
Mrs. Bata actively embraced the shoe business as she studied shoe design, pattern cutting and orthopaedics. In between her whirlwind travels, she even designed a signature shoe line and developed marketing strategies.
Slovo | 19
From the left, Thomas J. Bata holding an ankle-high canvas basketball shoe with rubber sole and rubber toe cap produced by Bata in Tilbury, UK; Philip Cowell; Sonja Bata; and Joe Vyoral at the Bata head office in London, UK, in 1951. They were preparing for a trip to Africa.
Thomas and Sonja Bata in front of a portrait of Tomás˘ Bat’a at the Bata head office in Toronto, Canada, in the early 1970s. Mr. Bata is holding a North Star shoe made by Bata Shoe Company.
20 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
“He wanted to make more shoes,” Sonja explains, “but we had to be able to make shoes that were affordable worldwide.” That was just the beginning of not only a dynamic partnership, but a life of accomplishment by Sonja herself. She studied shoe design and pattern-cutting but also went on to develop shoe lines and introduce new footwear styles for Bata production. She also became familiar with the business end of operations. “You know,” Sonja notes, “if you prove yourself, they begin to trust you and listen to what you’re saying.” In overseeing the Bata Shoe organization, Sonja and Thomas worked closely together. “Our offices were next to each other,” Sonja says, a reflection of their unique collaboration leading the enterprise. She tuned in to changing styles. She can still remember the women’s fashion changes taking hold in 1948, “definitely a less military look, much more feminine, with flaring skirts and narrow waists.” With that shift came the growing popularity of shoes with pointed toes and stiletto heels. Sonja realized that was going to be the trend and soon her designs reflected it. Her reputation blossomed. By then, they were refocusing the Bata Shoe organization on developing areas such as South America, India and Africa. The Batas traveled worldwide, becoming more familiar with different cultures and people’s different needs and uses for shoes. “I began researching local markets and different design ideas,” Sonja explains. “Designs very frequently reflect the way of life. I found that fascinating.” “Sneakers, or canvas shoes, were the first shoe that people in developing countries could afford,” Sonja says. “It was important to make shoes they could afford, that fit.” Bata companies designed and provided just those sorts of shoes, establishing new shoe factories in developing countries, with local employees and lower shoe prices to keep them affordable.
“We were a good combination,” Sonja says. “My husband was a financial leader. My talents were on the design side and human relations.” Their business thrived. Today, Bata companies sell 1 million pairs of shoes every working day. The more she traveled, the more she appreciated the way culture and taste influence style. That triggered her fascination with the variety of shoes and, ultimately, her stunning shoe collection. And, while nearly every woman loves a great pair of shoes, Sonja’s purpose was more anthropological. “Over the years, I’ve become such a detective,” she adds. “Different cultures have such different footwear designs.” Her keen sense of fashion and style would continue to serve her well. Sonja established the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto in 1995, a separate entity from the Bata Shoe organization that continues to thrive today. The museum’s extensive, global shoe collection draws 100,000 visitors each year. “The museum is a different chapter of my life,” Sonja explains. Sonja has not forgotten the Batawa community her husband established in southeastern Ontario, Canada, site of Canada’s first Bata shoe factory. To help support and secure its future, she bought 1,500 acres in and around Batawa and created the Batawa Development Corporation (BDC). The BDC has been key in coordinating community development and activities, including the conversion of the Bata factory into condominiums. Thomas died in 2008 at age 93. Thomas G. Bata, the son of Thomas J. and Sonja, now leads the enterprise. Sonja remains active on corporate and not-for-profit boards, still travels, searching for new footwear styles and handles global acquisitions for the museum. The museum’s purpose, she stresses, is to document the diversity of footwear designs worldwide. Her permanent shoe collection now totals 13,000. “It’s still fun,” Sonja says of her work. “Through shoes, you can learn a lot about people.”
Thomas and Sonja during one of their many travels for the Bata companies in the early 1980s.
In December 1989, at the invitation of president Václav Havel, the Batas return to their hometown of Zlín. Thomas and Sonja were warmly greeted in the main square by thousands of cheering people. The Batas immediately initiated plans for the return of Bata to the place where it all started. By 2008, Bata’s Czech subsidiary operated 93 shops in the Czech Republic, 25 in Slovakia and 43 in Poland.
b
Slovo | 21
exhibit SHOWCA SE
A. Elton John, British rock singer-songwriter, wore these incredible platform boots for performances in the mid 1970s.
The shoes shown here offer a small taste of the collection from the Bata Shoe Museum established by Sonja Bata in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. As diverse as the nations and cultures of the world, this global repertoire shows more than 13,000 artifacts and illustrates the evolution of shoes throughout history. The museum celebrates the style and function of footwear — ordinary and extraordinary — in four galleries. Its flagship exhibition, All About Shoes, explores 4,500 years of design, materials and uses, including the shoe as fashion accessory. Footwear on display varies from chestnut-crushing French clogs to Chinese bound foot shoes, from beaded Lakota women’s moccasins to Marilyn Monroe’s 1950s red leather stilettos. Sonja Bata’s world travels, starting in the 1940s, inspired her to collect shoes that mirrored the many cultures she encountered. By 1979, her collection had grown so large that the Bata family established the Bata Shoe Museum Foundation to fund ongoing international field trips to gather and research footwear. With the Foundation’s continued support, the museum opened in 1995. .
B. 1880s Pinet boots by Parisan Jean-Louis François Pinet, the most famous boot-maker at the end of the 19th century. Beautifully constructed and elaborately hand-embroidered, France. C. Silk socks, which were worn by Napoleon during his exile on St. Helena. They came from the family of W. Dickson in 1996. France, circa 1820-21.
A
B
C
D
D. Red chopine shoe is a pedestal-like footwear that transformed upper class women into towering figures during the Renaissance. Italy, 16th century. For more information on the Bata Shoe Museum, go to www.batashoemuseum.com 22 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
E
F
G
H
I
J
K
L
E. Converse Gripper, late 1940s-early 1950s. F. These rare paduka, or toe-knob sandals, embellished with inlaid ivory were once worn by a member of the highest class. Travancore-Cochin, India, 1775-1825. G. “Moc croc� platform with 22cm high heel. Vivienne Westwood, 1993. H. Mojari of the Nizam of Hyderabad, which is said to have been worn by the Nizam of Hyderabad, Shikander Jah, in the early 19th century. I. Evening shoe with comma heel, Roger Vivier, French, 1963. J. Nez Perce eastern Plateau moccasins, United States circa 1885. K. Pierre Hardy Poworama, 2011. L. These extremely well-preserved Italian high-heeled shoes date to the early 1700s. They are made of bevel-carved wood covered in deep red Moroccan leather and feature brightly colored embroidery on luxurious silk.
Slovo | 23
Bata Today:
A GLOBAL LEADER IN SHOE MANUFACTURING, RETAILING AND DESIGN By Sherry Crawford
Three generations of Bata. Company founder Tomás˘ Bat’a (wall portrait), son Thomas J. Bata (right), and grandson Thomas G. Bata (left). CEO Jack Clemons joined the Bata organization in the year 2006 as President of Bata Brands and Group CFO in Lausanne, Switzerland.
From its modest beginning in Zlín, the Bata business became one of the first world-wide enterprises operating in some 30 countries by the late 1930s, focused on providing affordable yet stylish footwear to millions. Today, the enterprise remains a global leader in shoe manufacturing, retailing and design. Thomas G. Bata, son of Thomas J. and Sonja Bata, is chairman of the Bata Shoe company, which now serves more than 1 million customers daily through its 4,500 stores and thousands of dealers in more than 70 countries. The tradition of innovation continues, with Bata professionals discovering new shoe materials and developing modern shoe technologies. Thomas G. Bata is credited with further growing the family-owned business, developing Bata’s Center for Human Resources, Brand Development and Finance, now based in Lausanne, Switzerland.
b
The evolution of the Bata Brand, starting in 1894 as T&A Bat’a Shoe Company, through today’s logomark (above). The page to the far right displays how Bata translates around the world.
24 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
Growing up in Batawa, Ontario:
MEMORIES OF THE BATA SHOE COMPANY IN CANADA By Ernest Melichar
When Thomas Bata announced his plan to build a factory in a new town to be named Batawa in Canada, word went out to the Czech and Slovak Canadian community that jobs would be available for Czech, Slovak and English-speaking building tradesmen who could translate building plans from metric to feet and inches. For many who struggled through the Depression years — job-hunting while trying to learn a new language — the news was like a dream come true. Many responded and by 1939, many of those Czechs and Slovaks were already Canadian citizens. My parents were among them. Alois Melichar and Blanche Sustek came to Winnipeg, Canada, single, in 1928. They both grew up in the small village of Pitín in eastern Moravia near Bojkovice, close to Luhacˇovice and Zlín. My parents’ families knew each of them but they were three years apart in age and spent four years of post-elementary education in apprenticeship programs far apart. My father remained near home as a cabinet maker/carpentry apprentice in the spa city of Luhacˇovice; my mother was on the Czech/German border in the spa city of Teplice apprenticing as a cook in the main railroad station’s dining room. They were married in Winnipeg in 1930. They answered the Bata call, as did many other Czechs throughout Canada. In Batawa, my father helped build houses. He also built his own building for a lunch and gas service station (River View Service Station) between Batawa and Frankford, on the Trent River and the hydroelectric dam and power station.
Bata shoes founder Tomás˘ Bat’a with his son Thomas. Thomas J. Bata would not only grow into leading the Bata empire, but he would eventually be responsible for moving the company to Batawa, Ontario. Ernest Melichar’s father built his River View Service Station outside Batawa, while working at the Bata shoe factory. Melichar’s mother ran the station while his father was at the factory during the day; his father ran it part-time at night and on weekends. The family lived in an apartment in the back of the building.
Slovo | 25
Construction of the Batawa village housing helps families who are temporarily staying in spare rooms in nearby Frankford.
School girls enjoying a beautiful Batawa day.
A group of Batawa children enjoy the swimming hole just below Dam Number 4.
26 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
During the span of time when my father was building the Batawa village housing and factory buildings, he worked in the shoe factory as a pattern-maker. Evenings, he serviced cars at his service station. My mother ran the business: pumping gas, making lunches and snacks during the day and preparing evening Czech dinners for a regular group of bachelor Bata executives who gathered around our dining table for their muchappreciated, old-country Czech comfort-food fix. Due to wartime shortages, my mother had to scurry around to gather what she needed every day. Soon, it became obvious that she needed to learn to drive. That created somewhat of a sensation in 1940; there weren’t many women drivers in that area then. Before the houses in Batawa were built, the Bata families were housed all over Frankford with local citizens in any spare rooms available. Frankford was a small agricultural shopping community. The downtown had a bank, drug store, general store, grocery store, butcher store, creamery and cheese factory, feed mill and farm store. Outside of town there was a vegetable canning factory and an abandoned paper mill, which the Bata Shoe Company converted for shoe-making operations before the new Batawa factory was built. The new Czech children started school in the fall of 1939, all in one classroom because the first task was to teach them English. The children of Czech-Canadians who came to work for Bata spoke English and Czech, which eased the language barrier. They were later separated into respective grade levels. When the families moved into the new houses in Batawa, the children took the factory bus to school in Frankford. Lunch for the Batawa school children was served in a Bata company-operated dining kitchen nearby. Close friendships developed among the Frankford children and the Bata transplants. In their free time, many walked along the highway to visit each other from Frankford to Batawa and back, a distance of two miles. They frequently stopped halfway at our service station for snacks. One day, in the late spring of 1943, someone from the Ontario wildlife authority came to the service station with an orphaned black bear cub about the size of a large cat. Due to wartime labor shortages, they lacked the resources to care for the cub until it was old enough to be reintroduced into the wilderness. My parents agreed to keep and feed it, which became quite a local sensation. Soon, the bear grew large enough for the authorities to reclaim it. Local Batawa and Frankford families supplied that cub with ample treats of ice cream, soft drinks and snacks while my mother regularly fed it plenty of Czech comfort-food scraps. The bear didn’t like to be touched on the back but scratching it behind the ears made it very docile. Batawa had its own swimming hole just below the navigation locks and Dam Number 4. There were six navigation locks and dams between Frankford and the Bay of Quinte on Lake Ontario by Trenton, a distance of seven miles. On a few summer Sunday afternoons, near the war’s end, the shoe company sponsored scenic airplane rides along the river. The plane was an open cockpit
The Bata Aerodrome in Otrokovice, near Zlín.
DeHaviland Foxmoth float-plane with a three-passenger closed-window compartment between the pilot and the engine. It took off from the river, flew upstream for about 10 minutes, returned and landed on the river. For many people, including me, it was their first airplane ride, and it sparked my life-long fascination with airplanes. The Trenton air base was a factor in choosing the Batawa site nearby. The Bata Shoe organization was a pioneer in business air travel for quick trips to their far-flung international enterprises before the advent of commercial airlines. Starting early in the 1920s, Bata bought and maintained a large fleet of aircraft ranging from two- to 10-passenger types, single, twin and tri-motors. There was a large staff of full-time pilots; many of the factory executives had flight training and were also licensed pilots. Bata bought the latest, greatest aircraft as they became available and started manufacturing and selling small aircraft of their own. The world-famous Zlín Trener Z-26 aerobatic sports airplane started out as a Bata Shoe organization manufactured product at the Bata airfield in Otrokovice, near Zlín. The aircraft manufacturer is now named Zlín Aircraft and still produces several models of the sport airplanes. In the late 1930s, the Bata organization bought two of the eight-passenger Lockheed Electra. When the Nazis invaded Czechoslovakia in the spring of 1939, Bata’s air fleet was confiscated, but one of the Electras managed to fly out of the country and it ended up in the Royal Canadian Air Force, where it became its first modern executive transport aircraft. It is still flying, with Royal Canadian Air Force markings. During the war, the Batawa factory not only made shoes but its engineering division was tooled up to make war material. The precision machine tool division made special parts for gyroscopes, special precision-machined primers for large artillery shells and some types of guns. Even mothers at home caring for the children were part of the wartime production process. Many had large sewing machines installed in their homes to sew leather gloves. The war in Europe ended in May of 1945. Several of the Czech Bata families that came in 1939 returned to Czechoslovakia, though most stayed in Canada. Many of the Czech-Canadian families who came to work for Bata in 1939 moved to the Toronto area to find post-war work; a few remained in Batawa. Eventually, my parents sold their service station and my father kept working at the shoe factory. We moved into one of the Batawa duplex apartment units vacated by a Czechoslovak-bound Bata bachelor. A little over a year later, we became immigrants, moving to the United States and the Chicago suburb of Berwyn, Illinois. I was three years old when we joined the Bata group in 1939 and 10 when we left, with many wonderful memories to cherish.
b
Below, male and female workers in the Batawa, Ontario factory.
Bata Bugle, the magazine of the industrial community of Batawa — Volume 1, Issue 1, April 1943.
Slovo | 27
Bata’s Influence on Architecture:
ZLÍN AND THE INVENTION OF THE PANEL BUILDING By Kimberly Elman Zarecor This essay is excerpted from the chapter “Zlín and the Invention of the Panel Building.” In Company Towns of the Bat’a Concern. Martin Jemelka and Ondrˇej Ševecˇek, eds. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013. Additional material on the topic can also be found in Kimberly Elman Zarecor, Manufacturing a Socialist Modernity: Housing in Czechoslovakia, 1945-1960 (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2011). Bata corporate housing in Zlín, circa 1938.
28 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
Postwar developments in residential housing in Czechoslovakia can be traced directly to the activities of the Bata Shoe Company and its architects in the 1920s and 1930s. Before World War II, the company’s efforts focused on family houses, but after 1940 the emphasis shifted to apartment buildings. The first innovations in construction technology for multi-unit housing occurred during the war when organized research on mass-produced prefabricated houses began in Zlín. These war-time experimental houses had compact floor plans and a cubic appearance like Bata houses of the 1930s, including the winning competition entries from a 1935 housing competition, which were themselves takes on the standard Bata duplexes of the 1920s. After the war, the situation in Zlín was never the same. Less than six months after Czechoslovakia’s liberation from Nazi occupation in May 1945, newly reappointed President Edvard Beneš signed the Beneš Decrees, which among other things nationalized all Czechoslovak companies with more
than 500 employees. This sweeping declaration brought the Czechoslovak operations of the Bata Shoe Company under state control. This included the factories inside the state’s borders, although seriously weakened by the war, and the town of Zlín. By this time, the family had fled with most of the company’s financial and technical assets and set up a new global headquarters in Canada. For Bata’s home town, nationalization had consequences far beyond the transfer of corporate assets from private to public ownership. This bastion of paternal capitalism now became the first physical space of state socialism in Czechoslovakia, a full two years before the political upheaval that brought the Communist Party to power in February 1948. Paradoxically, the company’s American-inspired brand of capitalism proved to be an ideal precursor to state socialism. His role as a visionary and material provider had been a source of legitimacy for Tomáš Bat’a and later his half-brother, Jan. With the family’s departure, the state was left to assume this position. It was soon taken up by the Communist Party, which had gained control of several key ministries with a strong showing in the May 1946 multiparty democratic elections. These included the ministries of finance, information and interior, as well as internal trade, which oversaw the Bata Shoe Company’s production, now limited mainly to the domestic shoe market. The aftermath of the communist takeover in February 1948, which ended the nominal multiparty system, showed how successful the Communist Party had already been in Zlín. Its operatives were positioned in the nationalized company’s new management structure and the local government. In 1948,
Bata’s duplex prototype from 1935. Experimental duplex made of prefabricated hollow blocks in 1941 (after facade rehabilitation).
Slovo | 29
The first panelák prototypes were completed in Gottwaldov in 1954.
30 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
Zlín and several surrounding villages were combined into a new city named Gottwaldov. The moniker was chosen by local communist politicians to honor Communist Party leader and new Czechoslovak President Klement Gottwald. At the same time, Bata operations in Zlín were renamed Svit, distinguishing the company from the Canadian firm which claimed the right to use the Bata name globally. A communist-controlled executive board was put in place to run Svit. With these two changes, the Bata name and the home town it was synonymous with, disappeared from Czechoslovakia. The architectural culture of the Bata company, like its corporate management style, proved surprisingly well-suited to the demands of the planned economy and the expectations of collective loyalty in a state socialist system. Long before communism was a political possibility, Bata designers were focused on prefabrication and serial building typologies — all characteristics that would later be associated negatively with architecture of the communist era in general, but which were hopeful signs of progress in the Bata context. There was a significant ideological difference, however, between the Bata years and what came after. The single-family house, which had been the cornerstone of the Bata residential building program, was abandoned in favor of low-rise high-density and high-rise high-density building types. This shifted the town’s existing street patterns, altered its silhouette and changed the relationship between individuals and the public and private space around them. Apartment dwellers no longer had the gardens and privacy that Tomáš Bat’a believed made his workers content. Zlín’s long history of innovative, high-quality design had continued during the war and into the early postwar period. In 1937, Jirˇ í Voženílek joined the Bata building department. Voženílek, who had been a young follower of avant-garde theorist Karel Teige and a member of a left wing architects’ collective, provided a critical bridge from the 1930s into the postwar period, both for the company and the national building industry. Voženílek became director of the Bata Building Department and, a few years later, he was appointed first head of Stavoprojekt, the nationalized system of architecture offices that replaced private firms after the 1948 communist takeover. In this way, Voženílek carried his knowledge of Bata practices directly from Zlín into the highest level of the post-1948 architectural administration. Just as in other cities, Zlín’s Two-Year Plan building boom (1946-1947) ended with the events of 1948 and the restructuring of the building industry. Voženílek left for Prague immediately to begin his new position as Director of Stavoprojekt. During the three years in this position, he embedded ideas of standardization and typification, developed in Zlín, into the design culture of the new state-run system. Postwar interest in panel technology was not unique to Czechoslovakia; in capitalist countries, it was only one of many architectural ideas being explored. This was in marked contrast to the Soviet Union and its satellites, where panel construction was the primary and often the only accepted option. For the most part, panel technology in Western Europe was used
for publicly-financed social housing. Because of previous research in Zlín and the extent of typification and standardization achieved by the first Stavoprojekt administration, this area of the building sector was much more developed in Czechoslovakia than in the Soviet Union or other parts of the Eastern Bloc. Even so, panel technologies were still a minor aspect of the architectural research agenda until the early 1950s, at which point the legacy of the Bata research centers was critical. Once the move toward prefabrication was fully embraced by the regime, experiments to find the best prefabrication technology for apartment construction were quickly undertaken at multiple sites, all led by architects with a connection to Bata. The first panelák prototypes were completed in Gottwaldov in 1954. Identical buildings were constructed in the Pankrác neighborhood of Prague the next year, and another development in Strašnice followed. The structural panels were manufactured with three layers — an exterior finish, the center of the panel with structure and insulation and a thin interior finish. Because of the thickness of the early panels, these paneláks felt like traditionally constructed buildings with similar finishes, reinforced concrete walls and good soundproofing. Over time, as panels became thinner and made of flimsier materials, paneláks were known for being loud and poorly-constructed. Despite some initial concerns about the expense of this technology, popularity of this building method accelerated in the late 1950s and 1960s. Infrastructure needed to be built, including a network of panel factories, to balance the cost of production and transportation. Over time, the pragmatic benefits of the panelák became apparent. In a 1966-1967 study, Slovak architect Peter Lizon concluded that a five- to six-story masonry building took 14 to 16 months to complete, while an eight-story panelák took only eight to 10 months. During this time, housing developments also grew in scale as the low-rise compact designs of the 1950s gave way to the immense sprawling developments of the 1960s such as Jižní Meˇsto (South City) in Prague. In the 1970s, the structural panel building, which had started off as a largely urban type in the Czech lands, made its way into the rest of the country as the post-1968 regime attempted to placate its citizens with hundreds of thousands of new apartments during the period of “normalization.” By this time, architects were forced to use lower-quality materials including plastics and design smaller apartments in larger buildings. For example, in the massive Petržalka project in Bratislava, which started construction in 1974, the average apartment contains 3.12 rooms in only 45 square meters (484 square feet). Like Jižní Meˇsto and Petržalka, the 1960s and 1970s developments were typically at a massive urban scale — without trees, a pedestrian landscape or usable community spaces — and nothing like the older districts nearby. Today these groups of apartment blocks dominate the edges of Czech and Slovak cities and towns. More than three million people, or one-third of the population of the Czech Republic, still live in more than 1,100,000 apartment units in 80,000 paneláks. More than one-quarter of Bratislava’s 435,000 people live in Petržalka alone. Over the years, for residents and visitors alike, these drab and often dilapidated buildings had come to represent everything that was wrong with communism. This may be changing, however, as recent investment in building rehabilitation — including new windows, new elevators and new colorful facades — has given these buildings new life and stabilized their value on the real estate market. Paneláks just may prove to be more resilient and desirable in the long term than anyone imagined when communism ended more than 20 years ago.
Identical buildings were constructed in the Pankrác neighborhood of Prague in 1955 and another development in Stras˘nice followed.
Today, more than three million people live in panelák apartment units throughout Czech and Slovak cities and towns.
b
Slovo | 31
CAL E ND AR
Celebration! Rituals and Revelry of Life Ongoing through January 11, 2015, Petrik Gallery From the celebrated collection of the National Museum in Prague comes this extraordinary glimpse into the traditions that shape our lives. The exhibit showcases Czech rituals and ceremonies throughout the year, including Lent, Easter, weddings, christenings, Advent, Christmas and many more.
Hours:
RE VIE WS
MUSEUM EVENTS Monday through Saturday 9:30 a.m. – 4 p.m. Sunday Noon – 4 p.m.
Peter Sís: Cartography of the Mind September 19 through January 4, 2015, Smith Gallery This solo exhibition by Peter Sís, an internationally acclaimed artist, illustrator, writer and filmmaker, focuses on the artist’s poetic renditions of the unending quest for discovery. On view is a wide selection of his original drawings, watercolors and gouaches. These magnificent pieces tell the stories of people who, through their adventurous spirit, changed the course of history.
BrewNost! Friday, October 3, 6:30 p.m. – 10 p.m.
b Easter b Thanksgiving b Christmas Day b New Year’s Day
Celebrate the 11th anniversary of BrewNost!, the area’s finest international beer tasting extravaganza, benefitting the NCSML. Enjoy a worldwide selection of premium beers paired with tasty hors d’oeuvres created by local chefs. Contact Elizabeth Schlegel at Eschlegel@NCSML.org, to reserve tickets for this special night out!
Holidays (Open):
Music @ the Museum: Domaz˘lická dudácká muzika
Holidays (Closed):
b Memorial Day b Fourth of July b Labor Day
Regular Admission: Members . . . . . . . . . . . . FREE Adults. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $10 Seniors. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $9 Active Military (with ID). . . . $5 Students (with ID) 14+ . . . . $5 Youth 6-13. . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 Children 5 & Under. . . . . FREE
October 22 at 7 p.m. This energetic band has been among the leading ensembles performing various styles of Czech bagpipe music for more than 15 years. The award-winning group has traveled across Europe, Japan and the United States to perform original folk music from the region of Chodsko.
Music @ the Museum: Dvor˘ák on Dvor˘ák November 30 at 2 p.m. A rare violin made by the Dvorˇák family (no relation to Antonín) has been procured by the University of Iowa Museum of Art. Before it goes into the collection, hear it used to perform the music of Antonín Dvorˇák. Orchestra Iowa’s music director Tim Hankewich will accompany the violinist on piano.
Old World Christmas Market December 6 & 7 Experience the magic of Christmas at our European holiday market! Discover hand-crafted artisan gifts, traditional treasures and special holiday treats. Meet Svatý Mikuláš, Andeˇ l, a Cˇ ert (St. Nicholas, Angel and Devil). The Museum Guild of the NCSML will also present the Annual Cookie Walk. For up-to-date information on these and all programs and events, check the NCSML website often: www.ncsml.org.
32 | National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library
WHAT WILL BE YOUR LEGACY?
“It’s about our heritage…we hear about others celebrating their ethnicity and history; the NCSML is celebrating ours! Preservation of our heritage is very important to us, so we wanted to make sure that the NCSML can do this important work long after we’re gone.” — Jerome and Anna Zajíc, Melbourne, FL
The Legacy Society of the National Czech & Slovak Museum & Library Legacy Society members have made provisions to support the NCSML through planned gifts — wills, trusts, or estate plans. Through the passionate support of its Legacy Society members, the NCSML is able to fulfill its mission to inspire people across the country to connect to Czech and Slovak history and culture, to make sure the stories of these people are not lost in time. Legacy Society members ensure that the NCSML’s work will be relevant and vibrant today as well as tomorrow.
What legacy will you leave for your family? For others? Planned gifts can provide financial security for you and your family now and support the NCSML’s mission in the future. Most planned gifts offer charitable tax benefits, and can be given as an unrestricted or designated gift. Our development officers can work with you and your financial advisors to identify the best plan for you.
The most familiar planned giving options include: b Wills and Bequests: These are the easiest and most common legacy gifts, and usually involve naming the NCSML as a beneficiary in your will or trust. b Charitable Remainder Trust: A legal trust is created providing you and/or your loved one(s) a regular fixed payment for a specified period of time or for life. Income, capital gains, and/or estates taxes can be reduced or eliminated. At the conclusion of the period of time, or upon your death, the remaining assets within the trust transfer to the NCSML. b Gifts of Life Insurance: There are a number of ways to utilize life insurance as a planned giving tool, including donating a policy’s accumulated cash value, listing the NCSML as a beneficiary, or assigning ownership of a policy listing the NCSML as that policy’s beneficiary. b Gifts of Appreciated Stock: Making a gift of appreciated securities can provide you with significant tax benefits. One benefit is that you do not pay the capital gains tax on the appreciation that otherwise would have been required had you first sold the stock and then made a cash gift.
MISSION
We inspire people from every background to connect to Czech and Slovak history and culture.
VISION
We are a museum that celebrates life. Czech life. Slovak life. American life. We are a museum that encourages self-discovery, a museum that asks what it means to be free. Through extraordinary exhibitions and experiences, we tell stories of freedom and identity, family and community, human rights and dignity. Our stories connect yesterday with today and tomorrow.
Any planned gift qualifies you for membership in the NCSML’s Legacy Society. Enrolling in the Legacy Society is easy. It simply requires the completion of a form indicating that you have made provisions in your estate to benefit the NCSML. The form is a formal notification of your intentions for NCSML records; it is not legally binding and can be revoked at any time. You can notify the NCSML of your intentions or further discuss these and other planned giving options by calling 319-362-8500. Please ask to speak with Jason Wright or Charity Tyler in the NCSML Development Department. You can also reach them by email at jwright@ncsml.org or ctyler@ncsml.org. Join the Legacy Society today to ensure the heritage, culture and stories of Czechs and Slovaks are not forgotten. Share your passion and inspire others for years to come.
1400 Inspiration Place SW Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52404 (319) 362-8500 www.NCSML.org
This edition is dedicated to Sher Jasperse, editor of Slovo from 2002 to 2013.