Berta Cohn

Berta Cohn, longtime resident of Scarsdale and White Plains, died October 4 following a stroke. She is remembered as a charismatic, elegant woman and an exceptionally loving mother and grandmother.

Born in New Haven on September 12, 1915, she was the youngest child of Isidor and Bessie Doff. She graduated from Emerson College, where she studied communications.

Berta worked for New Haven's WELI radio station in its earliest days, hosting and producing such shows as Sheila Goes Shopping and conducting interviews with actors visiting the local theatre.

In 1938 she sailed to India to marry Ben Cohn, whom she had met in New Haven and who worked in international distribution for MGM pictures. The couple lived in Calcutta for several years. During this time, they traveled throughout the region and had the opportunity to meet Mahatma Gandhi and Rabindranath Tagore.

In 1941, en route from the United States to South Africa, the boat on which they were traveling, the Robin Moor, was torpedoed by a German submarine. It was the first act of naval aggression by Germany against the United States in World War II. Berta and Ben survived 13 days on a lifeboat, living off hard tack and water, before they were rescued by a British ship.

In South Africa their daughter Linda was born. They returned to the United States where a second daughter, Kiki, was born. The family lived in Scarsdale.

For some years, Berta ran a bed and bath store in Eastchester and played an active role in the school P.T.A., Hadassah, and as a Brownie troop leader with the Girl Scouts.

After her daughters were grown and married and her first two grandchildren had been born, Berta lost her husband in 1979. In his retirement, Ben had written a column for seniors in this paper. It was called To Life.

In subsequent years, Berta enjoyed regular bridge games at the Pickwick Bridge Club and time spent with her children and grandchildren, playing Scrabble, making blintzes, and singing golden oldies.

She was energetic and independent into her very last days, lighting up the dance floor at her granddaughter's wedding in August.

Berta is survived by her daughters and sons-in-law, Linda and Peter Pinkham and Kiki and Andrew Schaffer, and by her grandchildren, Amanda Schaffer and her husband Dennis Potami, Julie Schaffer, and James Schaffer.

She will be dearly missed.

The following was written by Berta Cohn in September 2005:

It was a Sunday in 1938 in Calcutta, India. The men of the American community were playing in, or watching, the weekly baseball game in the shade of the banyan trees at the Botanical Gardens. Some of the Brits who watched, loved seeing a dropped ball""at which point they called out loudly, "Get him a baaahsket."

The women watched, chatted, picnicked and strolled about.

The guru had been standing on his head, motionless, for hours. Now he was sitting cross-legged on the grass. I wandered over, squatted down before him and gave him my palm. After a few mundane observations he said, "You will have an accident at sea, but you will live a long life."

After three years, Ben and I returned to the states when his stint in Calcutta was over. He worked at the New York office. We visited with family and friends in New York and New Haven, Connecticut and pigged out on Savin Ruck hot dogs.

It was May 21st, 1941.

Now we were on a freighter, a small ship, the "Robin Moor" headed for Capetown, South Africa.

Aside from the crew, we were three couples, a single man, and a two-year-old child.

At 5:00 a.m. the wireless operator knocked loudly at our door, and in answer to our drowsy mutterings, hissed, "Quick get up and dress - There is a German submarine alongside." Wait! We're not at war!

The first mate and the chief engineer rowed to the sub to confer with the Commander. It seemed ages, but it was only 13 minutes in all when the mate returned with the answer. We had 20 minutes to get to the life boats and get away from the ship before it was torpedoed. And there we were in the "Graveyard of the Atlantic." The next 12 days and 12 nights and six hours that we spent in the life boat is another long story. The sharks - the 15-foot waves - no food, just hard tack - no water - no hope.

A huge ship appeared on the horizon. It was agonizing - we saw them - did they see us? One moment we whooped - yes, the next moment we were desolate. Finally, the British ship, the City of Wellington, came to our rescue. But our troubles were not quite over - we had to climb a soft robe ladder to get on board and our lifeboat was bobbing on the waves and the ship was dipping and swaying and we were all totally exhausted. We were made very welcome on board, tho' we could not use the radio to send messages. We could receive and we heard we were presumed lost at sea.

Oh, the second part of the guru's prediction? I'll be 90 next week.