Mаnkov — Kinoclub Super 8

My grandfather Seraphim and his influence on our lives

Cinephile: Seraphim Mankov
Donor: Seraphim D. Vlaev - grandson

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In my mind, my grandfather represents the archetypal member of our family, our Oborishte street, as well as the memory of the years spanning from 1851. From said year, when his father Nikola was born, all the way to 2023 and beyond, a presence of over 170 years.

With the present text I’ll share what I know with future generations.

Seraphim D. Vlaev
January 31st 2023
Sofia

The writer Lyuben Karavelov already described his grandfather as an “old-time Bulgarian” in the 1870s. Even in the middle of the 20th century, I considered my grandfather Seraphim as an example of these old Bulgarians, who still carried the traditions of the past and the oriental way of life. The progeny of the prominent 19th century Bulgarian families, who witnessed the slow introduction of the urban way of life, and swapped the Ottoman-style low round table with three-legged stools for the city’s dining table sets, introduced by the generations after the 1856 Crimean war.

Street paving in Bistritsa, Sofia region, 1942

These Bulgarians respected bread and hard work, and lived by the saying “He who doesn’t work, shouldn’t eat”. For example, he had been taught, and instructed me likewise, to gather the bread crumbs from the table after a meal, so as to not waste them, like his pa used to do! He had been raised to be frugal. As a safety cushion, these Bulgarians always kept reserves of food, especially after the war. Grandpa Seraphim liked to stock up on foodstuffs, encouraged women to prepare preserves, and his attic always stored a large basket of apples, sourced from orchards at the foot of the Balkan range. He laid several large jars of pickled vegetables, and also liked pastrami and sujuk, which he prepared himself or with friends.

Seraphim Mankov was born in Suhindol, in the free principality of Bulgaria on October 28th 1881, in the family of a teacher and public figure. His father Nikola Simeonov Mankov had been a teacher eight years before the Ottoman withdrawal, and also mayor of the small town from 1879 to 1880.

In the years after the Russo-Turkish war of 1877-78, as an educated citizen, Nikola Mankov was actively involved in the construction of the new state. This great-grandfather of mine was a schoolmate and follower of Stefan Stambolov in the Tarnovo pedagogic school in 1864-65, and as a prominent citizen was first secretary and then head of the Permanent Sevlievo Regional Commission (regional council), as set up by the old administrative division under prince Cherkassky.

He was a representative in the 1st, 2nd, and 4th Tarnovo Ordinary national assemblies of 1881 and 1882. (It is believed that he was not part of the Great national assembly of 1880, since he ceded his seat to Stambolov, who had been prevented from being a candidate due to his young age, one or two years younger than the requirement.) They were supporters of the People’s liberal party, which after its subsequent split included such leading figures as the future prime minister Dimitar Petkov and writer Sahary Stoyanov, both editors of the Independence newspaper. (In the years following 1885, the liberal party split into three factions, as the People’s liberal party led by Stambolov distanced itself from the nihilist Karavelov and the pro-russian renegade Dragan Tsankov.

As a citizen of the Sevlievo region, grandpa Nikola headed the Sevlievo regional council. He believed in education and supported my grandfather's studies, first in Suhindol until 1895, and then the Aprilov high school in Gabrovo from 1895 to 1900. He graduated from the Mathematics department at Sofia university in 1904.

And there he was, at the onset of the 20th century, 10 years after Stambolov’s time, during the reign of prince Ferdinand. This grandfather of mine roamed around Sofia and witnessed the mapping and growth of the city in those years. Sofia university was founded in 1888, when the first building was built on Moskovska street behind the prince’s palace.

Since few intellectuals existed, individuals from the government were invited to take on the teaching positions. These were people like Bulgaria’s first prime minister Todor Burmov, the foreign minister Marko Balabanov, the senior assembly representative Todor Ikonomov, the history teacher Zlatinchev. The first dean was the scholar Alexander Todorov Balan.

As a student, Seraphim Mankov knew the old Sofia and its peculiarities, the times of the fairs, the bazaar around the Banya Bashi Mosque, the first movie theatres, the first modern buildings. At the time, the university was in the building of today’s Faculty of journalism on Moskovska street.

At the end of the 19th century and during his university years, Sofia had a population of 30 000. One after the other, all the innovations of modernity - photography, electricity, cinema, tramways, bicycles, motorcars - were starting to reach the country. The elites purchased plots and built houses. At the end of the 1890s and the beginning of the 20th century, the flow of incomers, and especially wealthier families from the rest of the country, increased. My great-grandfather Nikola bought a plot in the neighborhood to the east of the former Ottoman cemetery and near the Military school, which was completed in 1892.

In 1907, he began the construction of twin houses for his two sons.

My grandfather Seraphim moved in with his young family, his wife Slavka Deneva (1886-1920), who came from Tarnovo and was the sister of the painter Boris Denev. They had two children, a girl named Deshka in 1908, and a boy named Nikola in 1911. They both perished from scarlet fever, or possibly the Spanish flu.

He started teaching mathematics at the Boys’school in Tarnovo (1904-1907). From there, he transferred to the 3rd boys’s school in Sofia, then spent two years teaching at the Girls’ pedagogical school. In 1911 he was invited to teach at the 1st boys’ school, where he moved in 1912.

The 1st boys’ school is still located on Stara planina street, close to the Rakovski and Dondukov blvd. Intersection. He taught there until 1930, except during the war years. I’ve heard that back then there weren’t many houses between ours on Oborishte street and the school, and he was able to ride his bike to work almost in a straight line through the green fields on which Oborishte park is today. In our time, that’s three stops with the tram.

In 1905, as a young teacher in Tarnovo, he was conscripted for his military service. When he was 31 years old, he was called back to the army for the 1912 war against the Ottomans. He served as an infantryman in the 24th Infantry regiment in the most heavily contested sector, that of the siege of Adrianople, where he was awarded a medal for bravery.

Later on, he was wounded in the shoulder during the assault on Chataldja and convalesced at the Lozengrad hospital. With Bulgaria’s entry into the Great war in 1915, he was drafted into the 26th Pernik infantry regiment. In the summer of 1917 he was moved to the 87th regiment, where he acted as a company commander during the battles around Demir Hisar.

Seraphim Mankov’s first family.
Slavka Deneva (born in 1886)

And his second family after 1921 - his daughter Donka (born in 1922) and his wife Nadezhda Mladenova Angelova

The fall of 1918 was a very difficult time for Bulgaria. The following fall of 1919, when the limitations of the treaty of Neuilly were imposed, was even more gruelling. In this dark period, the postwar generation was born.

Seraphim married for the second time in 1921. His wife, 15 years younger, was Nadezhda Angelova, who lived across the street and was one of the five daughters of the construction contractor Mladen Angelov. Our mother Donka was born in 1922.

Mladen Angelov Amzin and his family of five daughters, one of whom will become Seraphim’s second wife

Mladen Angelov Amzin founded the “St. Tzar Boris I” cultural center (chitalishte) in Bistritsa. The picture is from its opening.

Folk dances in front of the cultural center (chitalishte) “St Tzar Boris I”, Bistritsa, Sofia region.

In the two decades of peace between the wars, Bulgaria went through a turbulent period of social upheaval and thwarted aspirations, which stunted its recovery. Once in his 40s, my grandfather had amassed enough experience to progress in his career during the 1920s.

He was theDirector of the secondary and tertiary education department at the ministry from 1930 to 1933. Later became the mathematics and physics inspector at the ministry of education from 1936 to 1938.

In 1938, he was invited to become the director of the 4th boys’ school (1938-1944). During this period, together with other colleagues, he authored textbooks and logarithmic tables, algebra, trigonometry, geometry in a total of 17 publications. Simultaneously, he remodeled the family house’s interior and purchased an automobile.

School camp in Teteven

As far as public affairs, he was a board member at the Teacher’s union, he headed the supervisory board of the Education union. As a Suhindol native, he was the head of the Suhindol cooperative, as well as a member of the Sea association, which was the first to establish children’s holiday camps on the coast. He retired at the end of WWII. At the same time, his daughter was married, and his grandchildren began to appear, starting with my brother.

My grandfather’s activities during WWII are of interest. Once the bombing of Sofia intensified in 1943, he evacuated his family to a nearby village named Bistritsa. He organized his daughter’s wedding there in July of 1944. Here are some pictures of the event.

Seraphim Mankov with his young bride Nadezhda in Bistritsa, circa 1938

Seraphim Mankov, in his role as principal, presenting his school to Tsar Boris III on May 24th 1940.

At the end of the war, Sofia was in ruins. Our house survived with just broken windows and falling plaster, but as a letter from my grandmother details, it was enough to make it unsuitable for billeting soviet occupation troops.

“... The russians are looking for lodging… 10 kg of rosehip jam were prepared in Bistritsa…” Grandpa Seraphim transported the school's possessions back to Sofia, after they had been taken to Bistritsa to save them from the bombs.

“He came to Bistritsa on Tuesday and Wednesday, loaded what was left of the school’s luggage, and headed back Thursday morning to deal with his pension and guard the house, since the russians were constantly trying to move in. During his absence, they even made Nadezhda open the door, went inside and spent a long time there, after which they said it was damaged and uninhabitable…”

“I’ll be staying here for now, your father will mind the house, I’m not sure how we’ll go about it. He decided to rent the apartment, because otherwise the russians will seize it and we’ll see no rent money and they’ll destroy everything. Mladenka had to take in two russian officers. We can fit in here, you and Mitko in the studio, and we can take the cabinet. I’ll arrange it nicely again, I’ve pictured it in my mind…”

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And here are some of my personal memories of my grandfather during the first years of my life in the postwar period, as I remember them with the help of my imagination and the pictures that supplement it. Times were bleak in the war’s aftermath, our neighborhood was on the edge of the more developed center of the city. Often, there were empty spaces between lots, where the debris of houses destroyed by the american bombs had been cleared from. The more modern houses in the vicinity belonged to teachers and high ranking civil servants of the old kingdom, who were being prosecuted, kept their doors locked, and were often visited by representatives of the “people’s” security services.

For example, the Prushev’s house right next to ours hosted the HQ of the army’s intelligence section, the RO. The house’s basement was used to torture enemies of the new regime. The sidewalk was closed off with barriers and an armed guard patrolled the premises. Screams and cries could often be heard emerging from the basement, likely of those being tortured.

When we were four or five years old (pictured), our grandfather took us to the fair being held on the open spaces next to the Poduene baths, on the other side of Zaimov blvd. It had wooden platforms with toy cars and rides, on which he put us and then watched us have fun. Another form of entertainment in those days were the circus shows inside a large tent hoisted in the field.

Toshko, Itka (Seraphim) and their grandfather at the fair, held at the riding arena of the Cavalry school, which today is Zaimov park.

I remember my grandmother Nadezhda only as a silhouette. She contracted the flu when I was 3, and having a weak heart, she soon passed away. I remember the silence and somber mourning when it happened, as well as being told I would never see her again. Everyone in the household was very saddened, especially grandfather, who from that point on was left by himself, since our family was about to depart. As a result, grandfather spent 1949 to 1952 living alone in the empty house.

My father graduated from medical school in 1950, and was assigned to work in Bulgarene, a village near Svishtov in the northern part of the country. The memories of my grandfather from that time consist of the occasional return to Sofia. He received us at the station and rented a horse-drawn cab to take us home. We went to visit him as an intermission between the longer stays in the countryside. From those times I remember the stillness of the evening interrupted by the clatter of horse hooves on the cobblestones, and much more rarely, the ray of light that penetrated the curtains and traversed the ceiling, as a truck or car went by. We slept in the room facing the street, while grandfather’s faced the courtyard.

Grandfather Seraphim continued to work. In these lean years he worked as an aging math teacher in the nearby Antim I high school. He taught there from 1953 to 1959, while me and my brother attended the same school as primary students. We kept quiet about our family ties, but the other teachers knew we were his grandkids. And he was a popular character. During Stalin’s personality cult, the communists had adopted the habit of clapping their hands and shouting Stalin, Stalin! to the rhythm. Later on, when Stalin died, that was transferred on to the local communist leaders like Dimitrov and Chervenkov. And the students, not knowing any better, assimilated that act as a show of respect for anyone they deemed worthy. And so it happened that in the course of several years, the procession from the school that celebrated Cyril and Methodius day passed under our windows. Upon this, the students began clapping and shouting Mankov, Mankov! Grandfather appreciated this greeting and walked out on the balcony to bow and wave to the procession. But in the meantime, those leading it must have been very worried that the gesture could be interpreted as a sarcastic mockery of the new people in power.

Grandfather Seraphim had persistent habits. He loved going to work and he loved the actual work. He enjoyed working in the presence of people who knew how to have fun in their day to day lives. Then, he felt like he could enjoy a social connection and also avoid wasting time, as he prepared examples and math problems for future classes. He eased the workload of other teachers by taking on tasks, like for example arranging the class schedule for the term, a nightmare for every teacher. He spread out a large A2 sheet and marked the different boxes with arrows for the corresponding classrooms, subjects, teachers and the different grades.

The process took two or three weeks, and he mostly worked after hours in the evening at home under a cloud of tobacco smoke.

This, as well as the affection of his colleagues, brought him satisfaction, since he gained the esteem of the entire collective, including the principal and the communist party secretary comrade Doneva. The latter was of especial importance in those days. They issued the definitive judgement on an employee, and even a very good professional could become marginalized if labeled as “not understanding the party’s policies”.

Without participating in any political activities, and only through a positive attitude and love of his profession, he was awarded a state medal in that complicated period of internecine party struggles, jealousy and recrimination. The Order of Cyril and Methodius 1st class was awarded to him on his 75th birthday during the unveiling of 23rd High school’s new building, which today hosts Spanish high school Cervantes. He was awarded medals by the tsar as well: the Bulgarian Order of Civil Merit 5th class on the occasion of Ivan Vazov’s anniversary in 1922, the Bulgarian Order of Civil Merit 4th class in 1938.

His ability to teach mathematics and his ample experience allowed him a steady income and he never asked for help. I believe he had a small salary of about 400 levs, when one private lesson cost two to five levs, and a shave was one lev. And he did give private lessons. With these funds, whenever it was possible, he enjoyed a treat for himself and us. I remember him handing me a small demijohn and some change as he said: “Go get boza and halva so we can treat ourselves”. We bought him cigarettes as well, as far as the lady at the corner kiosk knew us to be good kids. There was a shoeshine stand across the street, where I took his shoes, since he couldn’t stand dusty and unpolished shoes. He liked folk music and horo, he had a collection of such records. My piano teacher had tasked me with learning one of the popular horo melodies. My grandfather enjoyed it so much that he would often relax between lessons by coming over and asking me to play it. He always left a reward on the piano so I could buy something, just like a street musician.

Bravery medal from 1912, Order of Civil Merit 1922 and 1938, Order of Cyril and Methodius 1st class

Another habit of his was to visit uncle Stoyan’s barber shop across the river. Uncle Stoyan, a short man from the foot of the Balkan range, often shaved him and trimmed his thinning hair. The barber shop was no bigger than a one-car garage, and somehow fit two cabinets with a sink and mirrors, small shelves full of pomade, antiseptic alcohol, eau de cologne, drawers with scissors and hair clippers. The cabinet doors were covered with old magazine clippings of celebrities and cabaret artists from the “bourgeois” years. There were two barber chairs for clients “under the knife” and four or five for waiting.

A family picnic in the Rila Mountain.

As requested by our mother, grandfather often took us to get haircuts. When it happened, we impatiently spun around on the chairs while we waited to get our hair cut, a procedure I disliked because it got in my eyes. Uncle Stoyan didn’t quite like giving haircuts to children, with their small heads and unpredictable movements. With all these inconveniences, a child’s haircut wasn’t more expensive and still cost the same. Shaving was done with a razor and was a bit pricier because it included washing the face and splashing aftershave on it.

When we went to the barber shop, grandfather Seraphim was the first one to get serviced, after which he went to teach his classes at school. He left us in the hands of the “butcher”, who unleashed his annoying procedures.

Uncle Stoyan survived as the owner of his little shop well into 1956-66

in a communist economic context where almost everything was confiscated. He lived long enough to retire and close the shop, leaving us to the state-owned beauty salons. At that point, we were university students. When grandfather had a stroke and passed away on March 13th 1963, he came to our house and shaved the deceased with condolences and genuine respect.

Grandfather Seraphim liked to say that one may not be good at math, but has to be good at something.

Caricature of Seraphim Mankov, drawn by a student.

This drawing of the math teacher Seraphim Mankov was drawn by a student who could draw really well, but wasn’t good at math. As I mentioned, grandfather Seraphim liked to say that one may not be good at math, but has to be good at something.

It was the case with said student. ‘If you can’t do math, what can you do? Can you do anything at all?’, the teacher asked him. ‘I can draw,’ the boy answered. ‘Draw me, then!’, the teacher said commandingly. The boy hesitated, looking really anxious. “But Mr. Mankov, I only draw caricatures!’. “Draw me as a caricature, then!’ exclaimed Mr. Mankov. And here’s what the boy drew; a prominently large nose and the characteristic curled quiff. The teacher gave him a C, because he thought not everyone is born a mathematician.

The Bulgarians of old were raised in tougher conditions and nature made them larger in order to survive. So a large hand, big nose, big ears and the quiff were typical of my grandfather.

And one more thing about his quiff. Our grandmother Nadezhda figuratively described her love for grandfather with a russian song that emphasized the quiff:

Quiff, quiff, you thickset quiff, waving in the wind,
I loved you little thing, now you’re ever on my mind!

And his way of relaxing: The session would usually be arranged over the phone. “Say, Ivanov, let’s unwind on Sunday,” to which mr. Ivanov probably replied: “But of course, Mr. Mankov, you’re more than welcome. We’ll be expecting you Sunday.”

The event was a day-long visit to Mr. Ivanov’s house in the village of Gorubliane, where grandfather took different products, which Ivanov’s wife and three daughters then cooked for lunch. At this point I should mention that grandfather had an affection for women, especially when they were fussing around him. And these women were definitely good cooks. In the meantime, Ivanov and grandfather would partake a little and have a grand time. (I found that out when he took us there to pick cherries, as Gorubliane is the region around Sofia best suited to their cultivation.)

Mr. Ivanov’s family was very amiable, I think his wife was a foreigner. Mr. Ivanov was known as the representative of the German company AEG in Sofia, and the vacuum cleaner at home was made by AEG.

He was knowledgeable when it came to electric appliances, and as someone familiar with electrical circuits, he was later hired to set up the installation at our country house in Bistritsa. Some of his mishaps can still be detected today. On the other hand, grandfather gave his daughters math lessons that I think were free, and they graduated successfully. So the friendship wasn’t devoid of mutual interest and shared political convictions, we all need to socialize, especially when living alone.

Grandfather Seraphim was proud of his grandsons and enjoyed buying us gadgets that would help us as students or citizens. He greatly enjoyed riding a bike and driving a car. His Opel Olympia had been requisitioned during the war and subsequently returned in a pitiful state. He kept dreaming of acquiring another car to drive in his old age, but that proved impossible.

“Oborishte” street, Sofia 1942

He understood young people’s interest in cars and I believe he tried to instill that passion in us as well. When we were little, he bought us a toy pedal car that we called “the little car”. This was our first driving lesson, something our grandfather believed important.

When my brother started school, grandfather bought him a schoolbag, which seemed like a great deal to me. One year later, I myself received a bag.

Grandfather gave us gifts, but also expected things from us. I had difficulty learning the multiplication table and he was surprised by that. I had an especially hard time multiplying by 8 or 9. I remember it as if it happened yesterday: he’d ask ‘Itko, what’s 7 by 8?’ and ‘What’s 8 by 9?’. He didn’t even need to say the first part, so if we passed each other in the hall, he’d whisper ‘7 by 9?’ to me and expect an answer.

My brother and I started learning English in the 5th grade, around 1957. By 1960, by then in high school, that gave me the chance to listen to music on the VOA station and understand the news. Grandfather found out and wanted me to translate the news that Voice of America broadcast from Vienna without interference from the Bulgarian authorities. He was very proud that I knew something he didn’t.

Moreover, when I started highschool in 1960, he felt my interest in pop music and songs in English and bought me a guitar. He even paid for the entire course of guitar lessons I took with a music teacher. I was learning English and I started performing pop songs, which in turn made me popular among my peers and helped me enjoy great friendships.

By the end, when he was at a very advanced age, I went in his room and sat there to keep him company. He was short of breath, his heart weakened, he couldn't sleep and he started having hallucinations. I did my best to raise his spirits. He kept seeing a dwarf behind me, and said that the dwarf had come to take him away from this world.

Soon after, one morning he had a stroke and his light was extinguished… The dwarf took him away on March 13th 1963, when he was 82 years old.

That same year JF Kennedy was shot, and I started 11th grade. In his effort to suppress suffocation and overcome the sleepless nights, he sat on the edge of his bed, stooping over a small table with an open notebook, pencil, ruler and compass, coming up with structural geometry problems with the aim to publish a problem solving book. That’s where the stroke overcame him one morning, on top of the small table and the math problems. Likely a lucky death for an old teacher who had to constantly deal with shortness of breath and a weak heart.

During his funeral at the Sofia cemetery, the brass band of 23rd High school played in his honor and two teachers read speeches.

May god grant the same to everyone!