Ode to Rosa Cohen - Wittgenstein | The founder of Maison Bonneterie

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Dear Mrs. Cohen - Wittgenstein,

At the moment I start this letter, the salutation 'Dear Madam' still feels most appropriate. Perhaps that will change later, when I have delved a bit more into your story, and then I will dare to call you 'Rosa' and tutoy you (I like that word). But for now I will stick to your full name and 'you'. Because I don't really know you that well.  

I got to know your name through Sonja van der Valk. I had an appointment with her and her neighbor Katja about the Women of Amsterdam project - an ode from the Amsterdam Museum, where I work. This letter is also part of that project. Sonja and her neighbors are researching the block of houses they live in, on Amsteldijk in the Rivierenbuurt, in honor of the building's 100th anniversary. In this research, they have come across many interesting women who would fit in well with the museum's project. During that appointment, your story emerged as one of the most interesting examples. Sonja told it roughly as follows (I don't remember exactly, so I'm paraphrasing): 

'I was looking for the history of the block of houses during World War II, the property of the cooperative building society Eigen Hulp. I found a very short history, ten lines or so, written down by a board member at the time. In it he talked about a “Jewish moneylender” and that there was a fierce battle between the occupier and the board over the money she borrowed, which the Germans wanted to appropriate. Intriguing. I also came across the 'money giver' or 'mortgage holder' in annual reports and minutes. But nowhere with a name. Even though she had played a crucial role in financing the houses on the Amsteldike. At last her name was mentioned: Rosa or Rosalie Cohen-Wittgenstein. And she and her husband Joseph Cohen turned out to be the founders of Maison de Bonneterie!

At those last words, I almost fell off my chair. The founder of that famous Amsterdam fashion store, Maison de Bonneterie, is a woman! All I could think (and I hope you'll excuse my contemporary language) was: how cool, how bold, that woman should have an ode in our project! And so it is that I am now writing that ode myself to and about you, because with my big fashion heart, I cannot ignore that.  

The reason for this tribute is a letter in itself, but I want to tell a bit more about you. Because you deserve that. One of the most important things has already been said: a woman was at the helm of an Amsterdam (and The Hague) fashion icon, which is something I really want more people to know.  

You were born on December 4, 1867 in Warburg, Germany as Rosa Wittgenstein. How exactly you came to Amsterdam I don't know, but you worked there at Modemagazijn Hirsch & Cie (you were the niece of one of the founders), on the corner of Leidseplein and Weteringschans. You met your husband Joseph Cohen and already a few months before you married, in 1888, you rented together a building on Kalverstraat, on number 181. After the wedding, your store selling wool socks and knitwear opened there on March 18, 1889.  

That's where the name Bonneterie comes from, as you know but was new information to me; in your time, the word bonneterie was used for knitted textile goods, such as stockings and socks, hats, ties and gloves. A store that specialized in these was then popularly called a “bonneterie".

In 1893, you expanded the store with adjacent properties. Later, in 1909, an architect turned it into a single entity and the chic and opulent department store opened its doors, with a first for which Amsterdam was not yet familiar: the display window, or a showcase behind the window. In your fashion house, the latest fashions were on sale and there was an abundance of staff and saleswomen. Piccolos and porters in livery served the clientele. In 1901, Queen Wilhelmina awarded Maison de Bonneterie the title of purveyor to the royal household. How proud were you of that? Some 35 years later, you yourself also received an award and became a Knight of the Order of Orange-Nassau.  

In 1913, the architect of the store also built you and your husband a spacious villa at the Vondelpark, which your husband then named after you: Villa Rosa. The story goes that you were a posh couple, and even though you had no children together, you ran a hospitable household there. Many relatives, young and old, far and near, were invited for coffee and cake on Sunday mornings. Apparently, many couples owed it to you that they found each other there.  

Unfortunately, your husband Joseph died as early as 1924. Your strong bond with various family members remained, some even came to live with you.  

And then, in the 1930s, war was looming over Europe. You were able to flee around the beginning of 1942, together with a number of family members (you would have liked to take many more with you, but unfortunately they were already unable to leave the country; thank God your passport was just  renewed in 1940), thanks to the exchange for safe conduct against a large number of valuable paintings (Dutch masters) from the collection of cousin Alfred Cohen, who had been co-director of Maison de Bonneterie for many years. You and your party were supposed to travel to the United States via Portugal, but the latter country initially refused you. As a result, you spent a long time in a refugee camp in Cuba. I cannot imagine what this must have been like for you. What was it like there, how did you get through your days? It is also not clear to me how long you had to stay there, I read somewhere that it was more than nine months, but every day seems like one too many. Also, did you know at the time that your beloved villa had been confiscated by the Dutch SS? I secretly hope not, because that seems a terrible thing to have to realize.  

But I think you thought it was even worse that the Bonneterie had been taken over by “the Verwalter” and he had fired all the Jewish employees. Because you liked to help people, for example you rewarded your employees at the store's fiftieth anniversary by paying 50,000 guilders into the pension fund (supplemented by another 100,000 guilders from the then management). You were able to help a lot of others get away from the Netherlands before your flight, for example, by supporting them financially. As far as I can ascertain, these were not family members or other relatives of yours. However, you had helped many relatives from Germany flee to the Netherlands before the war, in the 1930s.  

Fortunately, you did survive the war and were able to return to Amsterdam, where you were re-registered on February 5, 1947. De Bonneterie had already been taken over in 1921 by two cousins, Alfred and Max Cohen, with whom you had also fled together. After taking over the store, you remained very present and involved in the business in the background. After your return in 1947, together with your own cousin and Alfred's son, you reopened the Bonneterie. You were able to enjoy that for two more years until you passed away in 1949. I think you certainly would have appreciated the fact that until the department store closed in 2014, there were always descendants of yours or your husband's in the management.  

I am sorry that I myself am just a little too young for the Bonneterie. Of course I certainly know the name, I think at the time everyone in Holland knew it. But in the south of the country where I grew up there was no establishment. And when I came to Amsterdam in 2010 to study, I was far from having the budget to come 'shopping' in your store, as we call it these days. By the time my income started to grow a bit and I might have taken a chance on going to your store, it was too late and it had already closed.  

The chic and impressive building with ornate staircase and beautiful dome with stained glass is still there, though. It now houses an H&M, a chain with fast fashion clothing that is nowhere near your offerings back then. I sometimes walk in, not because I like to store at H&M (far from it, although it is the company where I earned my first own money through a first side job), but to admire the building and maybe still experience a little bit of the old, stately Maison de Bonneterie. Now that I know that you are the founder of this icon, I walk in next time with a very different feeling.  

And then there is the connection with the building on Amsteldijk, through whose current occupant Sonja you caught my eye. There too you helped generously: in 1926 you provided the Eigen Hulp association, founder of the block of houses, with a mortgage loan of 375,000 guilders. The collateral was the block of houses.  

As far as I understood, it was rather unusual for a private individual to grant a loan of such a large amount to a cooperative building society. In addition, at that time you were a widow of 58 years old and your capital came from the fashion industry. Because of this loan you became known as “the Jewish moneylender” instead of by your name. Whether you would have minded, I don't think. Through Sonja van der Valk I learn that your second cousin (1931) characterizes you as a woman with a strong business instinct, but above all someone with a big heart. She therefore loved being with you. And whenever Eigen Hulp, after the prosperous 1920s, was in danger of collapsing in the 1930s, you stepped in so that the association could meet its financial obligations. You lowered the interest rate on the mortgage or were “content [...] to remain in arrears” of the mandatory repayment. During World War II, the money you borrowed unfortunately ended up with the occupying forces. Your niece relates: 'did my great-aunt get her money back after the war?' - the answer to that is 'yes' - 'Then she will have thought, done.' And therefore never told anything about it.' 

Mrs. Cohen - Wittgenstein, or by now I dare to cautiously call you 'Dear Rosa' because of my acquired knowledge of your generous heart, I hope you smile a little now that through this ode you will forever remain part of the story of Amsterdam. Through what you have done and meant for others, but for me most of all for making Amsterdam a bit of a fashion city. Thank you. 

Many sweet greetings, from CW to RCW, 

Catherine Wolfs  

Ode created thanks to the research of Sonja van der Valk and Deborah ter Beek.  

The information on flight in World War II was taken from the book 'Flight is Paid dearly. The wartime history of two Jewish families' by Loes Gompes, Alfabet Publishing, 2024