Features
Do you want a challenge? Try opening a restaurant in Mexico – four different times in six years
By BERNIE BELLAN In December 2021 Myron Love wrote a story for The Jewish Post & News about former Winnipegger Megan Kravetsky.
How I happened to give Myron that particular assignment was an interesting story in itself. I had begun delivering Meals on Wheels for the Gwen Secter Centre in the summer of 2021 – which, if you can recall, was a period when we were still enduing periodic shutdowns due to Covid. As a result, the Gwen Secter Centre stepped up the number of meals that it began producing – not only for Jewish clients, but for hundreds of non-Jewish clients as well.
I wrote several times about the incredible effort that the staff at Gwen Secter put into producing what ultimately became over 600 meals a week, but that’s not the point of this story. This story is about food though, so there’s a connection.
In any event, beginning in the fall of 2021 I began delivering kosher meals for Gwen Secter on a weekly basis to a number of clients, some of whom some have remained on my list ever since.
One of those clients was a woman by the name of Joanne Field. Like most of my Meals on Wheels clients I developed a nice rapport with Joanne. One day she asked me if I’d be interested in doing a story about her granddaughter, whose name she told me, was Megan Kravetsky. According to Joanne, Megan had been operating a popular restaurant in Puerto Vallarta by the name of Blake’s Bar & Grill, and Joanne thought that readers of the paper who might be heading to Puerto Vallarta that winter would be interested in dropping into Blake’s.
As it turned out, I asked Myron Love to do that story instead of doing it myself because we were coming up to our Chanukah issue at the time and I didn’t have time to talk to Megan and write a story – but I did think that the Chanukah issue presented the perfect opportunity to let readers know about Megan and her restaurant.
That was in December 2021 and, even though my wife and I have been to the Puerto Vallarta area several times – and really love it there, what with Covid putting a crimp in travel plans for several years, it wasn’t until this year that I had the opportunity to head back to Puerto Vallarta. While I was there, I thought, I’d like to touch base with Megan and visit Blake’s myself.
Which is how I came to do a completely different type of story than I expected to write.
You see, Megan Kravetsky’s experiences in Mexico can fill a book – and a good part of that would be a horror story. Try this one on for size: Not only was her business badly affected by Covid in 2020 – just after she had moved into what was then the second location for Blake’s – after having moved from the first location because it was just too small – this past October, after having moved yet again into a different location for Blake’s in what Megan thought was going to be a great location – Hurricane Lidia swept through Puerto Vallarta and Blake’s was forced to close down.
Still, Megan persevered. She had opened another small pop-up restaurant last May called Drop Shot Chill n Grill in an area well known to many Winnipeggers who spend time in Puerto Vallarta, near what is known as the hotel zone. But, in another series of unfortunate circumstances, this time having to do with a very nasty landlady (who repeatedly cut off the electricity to Drop Shot), Megan was forced yet again to close down.
Read on and you’ll find out about the long string of unfortunate events that seem to have accompanied Megan ever since she decided to move to Mexico in 2018, but once you finish reading the story you’re bound to have an immense amount of admiration at how resilient Megan has proven to be.
Here’s some of what Myron wrote in his December 2021 story: “Three years ago, the veteran chef and restaurant consultant came across a deal she couldn’t refuse when she took advantage of an opportunity to buy Blake’s Restaurant and Bar, an established operation in Puerto Vallarta. Megan is now happily living year round in Mexico.
“Now, in truth, the former River Heights kid (Brock Corydon and Grant Park) was no stranger to the Mexican resort community. She notes that her parents, Charles (whose mother is Joanne Field) and Vivian Kravetsky, are long time seasonal residents of the city – spending six months a year there and six months in Winnipeg – and she had visited many times over the years.
“ ‘It was perfect timing,’ she says of her move to Puerto Vallarta.
“ ‘The first year was tough,’ she adds. ‘My Spanish was limited – which made it sometimes difficult to communicate with my staff. Now I am fluent.’
“Kravetsky notes that her original career goal was to become a lawyer (like her father). ‘After five years of university (the University of Manitoba), I realized that that was not what I wanted to do, she recalls.
“Instead, she earned a business degree in management and marketing and went to work in the restaurant industry. She had worked in the restaurant trade part time throughout university. Over the next 15 years, Kravetsky worked successively for the McDonalds chain, Moxie’s, the Olive Garden and Montana Steak House.”
Before I met with Megan on March 16 – at the location of the most recent incarnation of Blake’s Bar & Grill in the port area of Puerto Vallarta known as Puerto Magico, which is where passengers from cruise ships disembark, I had a chance to see for myself the damage that Hurricane Lidia had done to her restaurant. The interior was all covered with tarp, but I was able to see through a hole in the tarp. I was quite surprised to see that the restaurant itself was largely intact – tables and chairs all in place, dishes, utensils and cooking equipment all in place, but the windows to the outside were all blown out. That piqued my curiosity and became the subject of part of our conversation.
Still, as my wife Meachelle and I sat down with Megan to enjoy a beverage in a nearby coffee shop and listen to her story, I couldn’t help but be impressed by Megan’s very positive attitude. As it turns out, Megan had been in my son Jordy’s class at Brock Corydon School (of which I was not aware. Also, somewhat coincidentally, Jordy, who now goes by the name Jitendradas Loveslife, also lives in Mexico, in a town populated by New Age former hippies known as Ajijic.)
I asked Megan how she came to own a restaurant in Puerto Vallarta?
Megan explained that she had gone about as far as she could as a restaurant manger in Winnipeg. As Myron noted, Megan had worked for McDonald’s, Montana’s (helping to open their Kenaston location where she worked as a line cook), Moxie’s Bar & Grill, Olive Garden, also Famous Dave’s – all before she had even turned 30.

Megan had been traveling to Mexico with her parents and siblings for years, she told me, and fell in love with the country. So, in 2018, she took all the savings she had accumulated and bought Blake’s Bar & Grill in downtown Puerto Vallarta, which had first opened in 2006. Before she was able move to Mexico though, Megan had to acquire a residency permit – which was no easy task, she explained.
You see, in order to purchase a business in Mexico, one needs something called an “RFC” (which translates from the Spanish to Federal Taxpayers Number).
As Megan told us, “without that (the RFC) you can’t purchase cars, housing, anything. I got my residency before I moved down. You have to do your residency out of country.”
I asked her how she could become a Mexican resident while still in Canada?
She said, “You apply, you have to make a certain amount of money. So I applied three times – within a six month period. I went to Toronto twice. Applied. Denied. Both times. Went to Calgary” – and finally got her residency permit.
But, there’s something else Megan explained that made the challenge of buying Blake’s even more difficult: She wasn’t able to finance the purchase – she had to pay cash entirely – something, we were also told, is par for the course for just about any major purchase in Mexico, including houses.
But, just because Megan was able to buy Blake’s, she wasn’t able to work in her own restaurant, she told me, until she had a work permit. As she explained, “…so you get one year temporary residency, then you apply for a three year extension after that, and then after that, then you apply for your permanent residency. But temporary residency doesn’t include a work permit. That’s the biggest thing, so I had to apply for my work permit to be attached to my temporary residency.”
Megan, however, had forgotten to apply for a work permit – which she would have needed to work in her own restaurant. “But,” she explained, “then when my daughter was born (in 2019) – because she’s Mexican, I automatically became a permanent resident. So I didn’t have to wait for four years – I only waited two (to become a permanent resident)” – thus allowing her to work in her own restaurant.
Now, while Megan’s initial foray into the restaurant business was quite successful, the first Blake’s Bar was too small to accommodate the high number of customers it was attracting. As Megan put it, “the place was too small. It was a very small… very small restaurant.”
And then, in 2020, Covid hit. While Mexico had no sort of rules requiring masking in public places, it did institute rules governing social distancing – with a six feet distance required between tables. “We could only have two or three tables in at one time during high season,” Megan said.

So, in 2021, Megan moved to another location in Puerto Vallarta, in an area known as Plaza Santa Maria. Things were going really well in that new location. It had become a very popular spot for Canadians, especially Winnipeggers, as Megan made sure all Winnipeg Jets games were shown there. (Megan was in that location when Myron contacted her and she was brimming with confidence when she spoke to him about how well things were going.)
There was one major problem, however, as Megan explained: “The landowner there didn’t pay her taxes. So when you went to go take out your licensing, you have to show proof the taxes are. And if they’re not paid, then you can’t take out your licensing. And she owed back taxes of almost five years, which was over 300,000” (pesos – or about $22,000 Canadian dollars).
“And she didn’t want to pay it. So I had no choice,” Megan noted. As a result, after only one year in what had been a very successful location – even if only for a short while, Megan moved yet again, in 2022 – this time to the Puerto Magico location.

The owners of the building where Megan opened what by then had become the third location for Blake’s in only four years had induced her to move there with all sorts of promises, she said: “They had promised us numerous things that they never completed. The passport office was supposed to open upstairs two years ago. Still not open. Another restaurant was supposed to be up there. We were just alone up there. There’s nothing. They made it impossible for guests to get up the stairs. They wouldn’t fix the elevator. It still doesn’t work to this day. It’s been three years…and the whole thing with that is they don’t want to pay the electricity to have the elevator working.
“So they just made it impossible for the cruise ship people to get upstairs or any people in general to get upstairs.” On top of all that, the owners of Puerto Magico didn’t allow Megan to have any signage on the street which would have told tourists that Blake’s Bar was there.
Still, Megan might have been able to turn things around were it not for that hurricane last October. She had developed a great reputation as a restaurateur. (Just take a look at the glowing reviews on Tripadvisor for Blake’s Bar). In addition, Megan is a fantastic baker and she had opened a bakery known called Sweet Temptations Bakery Boutique next door to Blake’s in Puerto Magico. That closed too the same time as Blake’s when the hurricane hit.
You’d think, however, that notwithstanding the damage that a hurricane might have caused, it would just be a matter of time before things could have been repaired and Blake’s would have been back in business – but that wasn’t the case.
While the interior of the restaurant was left largely intact, the windows had all been blown out. So, it’s just a matter of replacing the windows – right? Or, so you’d think. But this is Mexico – and similar to the landlady who didn’t want to pay her taxes in Blake’s previous location, the owners of Puerto Magico haven’t moved to replace the windows that were blown out.
Here’s how Megan described what happened: “So, the whole thing here, after the hurricane hit, when you construct a building here, the windows and doors are property of the plaza. Doesn’t matter if you put them in, they put them in, it’s property of the plaza. You can’t leave with them. Yeah. Same with the floor. So when the hurricane came through and destroyed everything, the first thing they said to me is our insurance will cover it, our insurance is going to cover it, it’s our property.
“So we waited and waited and waited and waited and about two and a half to three months in, they said, nah, our insurance actually isn’t going to cover it. At that point, my own insurance wouldn’t cover it anymore. It has to be done within 24 hours. That’s just how it is.” (Note to readers: Anyone from Winnipeg could identify with Megan. A building burns down and a pile of rubble remains for years. A bridge closes because it’s unsafe and it sits there – unusable, but with no plan to replace it.)
Not one to let anything get her down though, Megan still had her pop-up restaurant, Drop Shot Chill n Grill. As I mentioned at the beginning of this story though, just recently that site too had to close down.
This time it was the landlady who owned the area where Drop Shot was located that forced Megan to close. While Megan leased the space for her location from an individual who didn’t actually own the land where Drop Shot was situated, he had tennis and pickleball courts there. Apparently though, the woman who actually owned the land didn’t like the loud music coming from Drop Shot – even though it wasn’t in a residential area at all.
Again, here’s how Megan described the situation: “In our contract it stated that I was allowed to have live music, barbecue, blah, blah, blah. The landowner who owns the land, who I don’t lease from, owns the hotel behind the parking where the tennis courts are. And she doesn’t like noise. She doesn’t like any noise. Yet, they have music and tennis tournaments and fairs and they have the food park and all that.
“So, during our live music, she would complain constantly, even though our music was only from 3 to 6 – that her guests, one guest in particular, couldn’t sleep – it was too loud. We always abided by the decibel restriction limit; it was never over the decibel limit.”
The story continued: “So she cut our electricity off once when we had the live music – but the second time she did it, I had a generator. She didn’t know that I had a generator going. So she had cut the electricity, but the music was still playing. So at that point she would call the ‘reglamentals’ – the bylaw officers, who would come check and she’d say, ‘There’s really loud music going on at Drop Shot.’ They would come, they would check, they’d check my permits, everything would be okay, they’d leave. That’s when I called the police on her. They’re my friends. They had a very long conversation with her… told her that it’s illegal to cut the electricity, she can’t do it.”
But, as you might expect, the landlady wasn’t about to back down. “It got to the point where she threatened the guy who I was subleasing from that if he didn’t get rid of me, she was going to get rid of everybody.
“She wouldn’t re sign the contract with him. So he’s had his tennis courts and pickleball courts there for over five years. And she said, ‘if I don’t leave, then everybody’s leaving.’ “
So, once again, Megan has had to abandon what had turned into a successful venture – but after dealing with Covid, a landlady who didn’t want to pay taxes, a hurricane, and a landlady who doesn’t like loud music, you’d have to wonder whether Megan is still willing to enter into yet another food venture?
Not surprisingly, she said she is. I asked her “How real is that? How feasible or viable?”
“Oh, it’s very viable,” she answered. “We’re just waiting on the contract to be signed.” Megan added that she has someone who she wouldn’t describe as a partner in her putative venture, but somebody “that’s going to help me.”
Throughout our conversation I had refrained from bringing up the subject that surely must be in the back of many a reader’s mind when it comes to thinking about doing business in Mexico: What about the cartels? Has Megan had any run-ins with the local cartel I wondered? (And when it comes to cartels, Puerto Vallarta is located in the state of Jalisco. Anyone who knows anything about Mexican cartels would know that the Jalisco cartel has a reputation for extreme violence.)
Megan answered though that “They’re not really that visible here… They keep it very under the table here.”
I said though that “the Jalisco cartel is notorious.”
But, Megan responded, “that’s more towards Sinaloa and Chihuahua.”
Still, given Mexico’s longstanding reputation for corruption at almost every level, I asked Megan, “Did you have to pay off people?”
She answered: No, never, never, never had to pay anybody off. You give back and then, you know, everybody takes care of each other.” She went on to describe the excellent rapport she has had with the local police, for whom she has catered a huge feast known as a “masada” every year, at which over 400 police have attended.
It’s hard to imagine someone coming down to Mexico and, within the space of only six years, opening restaurants (and closing them) in four different locations, yet still remaining optimistic that she’ll be able to open a fifth in short order.
If and when Megan does open another restaurant – I’d sure like to try the food. If the reviews she received on Tripadvisor for each of her locations are any indication, one thing Megan Kravetsky knows is how to prepare great food – and leave her customers with a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
Features
The Leica Camera Family and the Shoah
By DAVID TOPPER I was born in 1943 in Pittsburgh, steel-town USA. While I was still in diapers, across the Atlantic Ocean, the Shoah was well under way. The mass murder continued, only coming to an end due to Germany’s defeat in the Second World War. My father was in that war, spending over two years in the Army Signal Corps on the other side of the world – on a small island in the South Pacific. He didn’t kill any Japanese soldiers; the US Marines had already “liberated” the island before he arrived. Being in the Signal Corps, he must have heard the radio contact with the airplanes on the nearby island of Tinian, on those two days in August of 1945 when they took off carrying the nuclear bombs that ended the war with Japan. By the time he came home in March 1946, I was a toddler. He resumed his job at one of the steel companies, where he held a clerical position.
My father was what was called in those days a camera buff. He liked to take pictures and develop the film himself. He built a darkroom in the basement, and it was there that I learned the craft. Initially he just had a simple box camera: point and click. But he always talked about getting a real camera someday: where he could set the aperture, speed, and focus himself. His salary at the steel company was not enough to get an expensive camera, such as a Leica. Although he did talk about these German cameras; they were top of the line 35mm roll film cameras, with the 1/1.5 aspect ratio negatives. I remember looking at them in the photography magazines he bought. Owning a Leica was a fantasy. This was when I was still very young.
I vividly recall the day he bought a real camera. I was around the age of nine, or maybe older. He saw an ad in the for-sale section of the newspaper: someone was selling a Rolleiflex camera, the twin-lens reflex camera using 120 roll film with 2¼ x 2¼ inch square negatives. The Rolleiflex had hit the market in 1929 and quickly set the standard for medium-format photography, in competition with the popular 4 x 5 inch press camera.
I went with my father somewhere on the other side of Pittsburgh. The man had been on a business trip to Germany, where he bought the camera. But he was selling it because he was frustrated with the need to focus, set the speed and such. He just wanted a box camera: point and click. So, my father bought it.
Since the specific camera my father bought was not only made in Germany but had been sold there, all the writing on it was in German. My father loved the camera. He said it produced exceptional images. He believed the lens was so good because it was made only for Germans themselves. At the time I believed this; as I believed everything he said at that age in my life. Now I think otherwise.
It was around this time that my father joined the camera club at the steel company where he worked. There were monthly meetings, as I recall. He was an active member; even the president at one time. Occasionally he took me to a meeting. And that’s where I met Carl, whose last name I can’t recall. So, why mention him? Because Carl owned a Leica. He was the only member of the club to have a Leica. Carl probably had a much higher paying job than my father and the other guys at the steel company. (And, by the way, they were all guys; except for the models. But that’s another story for another day, not relevant here.) Anyway, Carl had a Leica; and he even let me hold it, as long as I kept the strap around my neck. Whether I actually snapped a picture with it – I don’t recall. Probably not. But it was a highlight of my time at the club. Now, before you jump ahead: no, I didn’t buy a Leica, ever.
But I did get a Rolleiflex – or Rollei, for short. Here’s how. My father’s love affair with the camera didn’t last. The catalyst for the change was when cameras started coming out with built-in light-meters. No longer did you have to fiddle around with the light-meter hanging around your neck, pointing it to the subject, and then setting the camera’s shutter and aperture. It was all built-in; you adjusted the setting directly on the camera. And so, my father bought another newer Rolleiflex; this one with a built-in light-meter.
He then sold me his German Rollei. Yes, you read correctly: he sold it to me. My father grew up during the Depression in the 1930s, and this was the source of such behaviour. I was older at this time – somewhere in my teenage years – and I had a paper route, so I could afford it. I don’t recall the price; and I’m sure I got a good deal – he was my father, after all – but still.
I, in turn, loved the camera – even though I had to use a hand-held light-meter. It was my only camera for many, many decades of my life.
One more thing, before I get to the role of the Leica in the Shoah. As I write this, I’m living in Canada. I moved here in August 1970 to begin what turned out to be a 42-year tenure as a university professor. Moving from the USA to Canada was an adjustment in many ways. For example, the role of the monarchy here was a novelty for me. I mention this because I was pleased to learn that the Queen, who was head of state at the time, owned a Leica.
The name comes from the owner of the factory in the city of Wetzlar, in south-west Germany, near Frankfurt. Here is where the first prototype camera was invented in 1914; a camera that used 35mm film. Before that, photographers had to use bulky wooden boxes with large glass plates. The factory was the Ernst Leitz Optische Werke; in other words, the optical plant of Ernst Leitz. The First World War delayed production of the invention, but by 1925 the first Leica camera debuted at the Leipzig Spring Fair. For the name they combined the words Leitz and Camera and got Lei-ca – or Leica. (Note that they used the Latinized, camera, not the German, kamera.) Thus, was introduced the portable 35mm camera that led to everyday street photography and photojournalism, such the famous images of Henri Cartier-Bresson, and others. Subsequent models over the next decades introduced the rangefinder, better lenses, extended shutter speeds, and so forth. The Leica M3 of 1954 is called by AI: “one of the greatest mechanical cameras ever built.” Fortunately, for the average photographer, there subsequently were other 35mm cameras introduced at considerably lower prices by Kodak and Argus in the USA, with more coming later from Japan.
All of this paralleled the development of the Twin-Lens Rolleiflex, which my father and I owned. The Rollei is another example of German precision engineering. Franke & Heidecke in Braunschweig, Germany is where the first Rolleiflex hit the market in 1929. The model went through many changes over the decades, so that up to the 1960s, also according to AI: “the Rolleiflex was the undisputed king of photojournalism, street photography, and portraiture.” I’ll leave that topic where it is.
Now I want to get to the point of all this background discussion of photography. Namely: the account of the family-owned Leica business in Germany under the Nazis. It started in 1933 when Adolf Hitler became chancellor, and the government passed the Nuremberg laws, which institutionalized racial discrimination and stripped German Jews of their citizenship.Subsequently, Jewish professionals—doctors, lawyers, professors, and business owners—were gradually barred from their livelihoods and public life.
At the time, Ernst Leitz II (1871-1956) was head of the firm. The Leitz family were Protestant Christians. Their attitude toward their workers was progressive for the time: with pensions, sick leave, and health insurance. The firm also employed many Jews in various positions, from workers to the professional staff. Seeing the writing on the wall in 1933, many Jewish employees and their families wanted to leave Germany. The company also had offices elsewhere: London, Paris, New York, and Hong Kong. In a short while, the ocean liner Bremen was docking in New York harbour, and Leitz employees and their families were being escorted to the Leitz Manhattan Office. Every few weeks, under the guise of being assigned overseas, another group of Leitz “employees” arrived in the harbour. Each German employee had a Leica camera hanging around his neck. Until a position was found for him, he was paid a stipend. Eventually they all found jobs, mainly in the photography industry.
The same thing happened in the other offices outside of Germany, especially after Kristallnacht in November 1938, as synagogues and Jewish shops were torched across Germany. Thus, many Jewish employees and their families (and even Jewish friends of families) were assigned jobs in sales offices in London, Paris, and Hong Kong, where they too escaped the Shoah.
This continued until September 1939, when Germany closed its borders, after the invasion of Poland and the start of the Second World War. By then hundreds of Jews had left on what was later called “the Leica Freedom Train.” It was all a ruse to save Jews from the Shoah. We don’t know the exact number; but it ranges from 100-300 lives saved.
Ernst Leitz II was able to pull this off because he was not only a respected member of the business community, but his factory was also producing military optics, rangefinders, and telescopic sights essential to the German military. As long as the military was getting what they needed from Leitz’s factory, there was no reason to question the way he was moving his employees around the world.
In general, this was true. But not always. One executive was jailed for helping Jews leave the country. He was eventually freed, after Ernst paid a large bribe.
But worse was to come. Since many of the workers at the Leitz factory were drafted as soldiers in the war, the place lacked workers to keep it running. Between 1940 and 1945, the Nazi government sent approximately 700 to 800 women from the Ukraine and Western Russia as slave labourers. This is where Ernst’s daughter, Elsie Kühn-Leitz (1903-1985), comes in. Elsie had a Doctorate in Law from Frankfort University, as well as degrees in business administration. She was married to Knut Kühn, with whom she had three children. Working for the Leitz company, she treated the women well, providing them with sufficient food, clothing, and living quarters – for which she was reprimanded by the Nazi authorities. Nonetheless, she refused to treat them as slaves.
Then in May 1943 she was asked to help a Jewish woman, Hedwig Palm, escape to Switzerland. Hedwig Palm (née Dessauer, born 1888) was the wife of Hermann Palm, an optician and photo equipment dealer who owned an optical shop in Wetzlar, and who had business connections with the Leitz family. Hedwig apparently was the only Jew in the family. Elsie had an aunt in Munich, not far from the border with Switzerland. So, in the dead of night Elsie safely took Hedwig to her aunt’s home. With a map and some money that Elsie gave her, Hedwig next set off toward the Swiss border. Unfortunately, she got lost and hailed a milk truck. Assuming she was a Jew, the driver drove her to the border police. From documentation that I found in the Yad Vashem, Hedwig was arrested and sent to the Ravensbrück women’s concentration camp, where she died in 1944. Incidentally, the Palm store is still there in Wetzlar. You may find its website under Juwelier Palm, specializing in jewelry, watches, and goldsmithing.
When the Gestapo found out that Elsie had helped Hedwig try to cross the border, she was called in for questioning for several hours. Her humane treatment of the Ukrainian women also came up: what the Gestapo called: “excessive humanitarianism.” Ultimately, she was sent to the Frankfort police prison on September 10, 1943. As she hugged her children good-by, she thought that she would never see them again. The conditions in the jail were sub-human. Minimal food, filthy quarters, bug infested – plus she was sporadically manhandled roughly by the staff. What food her father was able to get to her – she shared with her fellow prisoners. At one point the Gestapo were threatening her with deportation to the Ravensbrück concentration camp. It lasted three months until November 28, 1943, when her father paid a very large ransom to the Gestapo to have Elsie released. Even so, the Gestapo kept an eye on her, often calling her in for interrogation. This continued until the end of March 1945, when American tanks rolled into Wetzlar.
After the War, Elsie and Knut divorced and she got actively involved in humanitarian and diplomatic work, mainly in Africa. She particularly supported the work of Albert Schweitzer’s hospital in Lambaréné, Gabon, even paying a visit in June 1959.
In general, the Leitz family wanted no publicity for all this work in saving Jews. It was only after that generation died out, that the full story came out. And this happened mainly because of the following event.
Like many stories from the Shoah, there are often several layers to them. That’s true for this one too; for I note the following fact. In 1988, surviving labourers and Shoah survivor-groups initiated class-action lawsuits in U.S. and European courts against dozens of major German industrial firms. The Leica Company was one of them, having used women from the Ukraine and Western Russia during the war. In 1999, a Compensation Fund was set up by the government; Leica, along with other German companies, paid into a collective multi-billion-mark fund, as compensation for slave labourers (or their surviving heirs) across Eastern Europe, Israel, the USA, and elsewhere. This may explain Leitz family’s reticence for publicity about their efforts during the war.
Note that Elsie, who died 1985, didn’t have to deal with this. But her children surely did.
Finally, I mentioned before the famous street photographer and artist, Henri Cartier-Bresson, who wrote the well-known book The Decisive Moment (1952), and who incidentally, used Leica cameras. He knew Elsie, and wrote this tribute about her. “I knew Elsie Leitz well and she always welcomed me warmly…when I visited Wetzlar. I was very impressed by her passionate concern for international humanitarian causes, and by the great risks she took during the war to save many people who were in danger. I remember her with deep admiration.” This affirmation forms the Introduction to the book: Elsie’s War: A Story of Courage in Nazi Germany, by (Rabbi) Frank Dabba Smith (Frances Lincoln Ltd, 2003).
Features
Myths and Reality: Are There Winning Strategies at Online Casinos?
Ask around, and everyone seems to have a theory. Plenty of Turkish players hunting for a fast, stable way into their favorite games lean on Pinco giriş to sign in, poke around the lobby, and see which offers are live that week. Then comes the real question, the one nobody quite lets go of.
Can a person actually beat the house long term? Short answer, said plainly: not reliably. To back that up, Pinco Сasino breaks down how these games are wired and why clever-sounding systems keep falling apart the moment real money is involved.
Where the Myths Come From
Here is the thing about casino myths. They almost never start with data. Someone wins big on a random Tuesday, tells the story twice, and a lucky fluke quietly turns into a “method.” Ads nudge it along. Forums repeat it. Newcomers testing Pinco giris often show up already half-convinced of a few of these.
The usual suspects:
- A machine is “due” after a long cold streak.
- Doubling bets after a loss will win it all back.
- Some hours of the night pay out better than others.
- The last spin somehow hints at the next one.
Not one of them survives a close look. Every round stands alone. A clock does not care, and a losing streak has no memory. Players who accept that early tend to keep both their patience and their cash.
What the Math Actually Says
There is a number behind every game: the house edge. It is just the slice the operator expects to keep over time. One session? It predicts nothing. Ten thousand rounds? It shows up like clockwork. Folks who reach Pinco Сasino giriş usually relax and enjoy things more once that figure stops feeling like a trick.
House Edge in Plain Terms
The table gives a rough picture of how game types stack up. Exact numbers move around depending on the rules and the studio behind them.
| Game Type | Typical House Edge | Skill Involved |
| Slots | 3% – 10% | Very low |
| Roulette | 2.7% – 5.3% | Low |
| Blackjack | 0.5% – 2% | Moderate |
| Video Poker | 0.5% – 3% | Moderate |
So skill-based games attract strategic players, while slots remain a pure coin flip. Still, that edge never hits zero. The house keeps its sliver over the long haul, no exceptions. Reading the numbers first helps players expect the truth rather than a fairy tale.
Smart Habits That Reduce Risk
Real strategy has nothing to do with cracking the odds. It comes down to control, a budget, and picking games with a clear head. Some regulars keep the Pinco APK close so they can monitor spending and session time right from their phones.
A handful of habits actually move the needle:
- Decide on a budget before the first bet, then quit when it is gone.
- Lean toward lower-edge games when the plan is a long session.
- Think of bonuses as extra minutes, never as promised profit.
- Step away often, because tired choices get expensive.
A Pinco promosyon kodu might stretch a bankroll a bit, sure. It still does not touch the underlying math. What these habits really protect is the fun, so the whole thing stays a hobby and not a chase.
The Honest Bottom Line
No secret formula exists. Anyone peddling one is selling a story, nothing more. What Pinco pushes instead is calm, responsible play built on firm limits and goals a person can live with. That habit outlasts any hot streak.
For Turkish users, a solid Pinco oyun sitesi should feel simple: clear rules, quick access, fair terms. Good nights come. Bad ones come too. The players who last are the ones who know the odds cold, guard their budget, and refuse to mistake a bit of luck for a plan.
Features
The Blackjack Bet Behind the Everyday Phrase Double Down
Imagine sending a terrible pun to someone you fancy. They laugh, so you send another. Soon, the two of you have a running joke, and a friend says you have doubled down on the cheesy approach.
The words sound at home in that exchange. They also fit a chief executive’s plans or a politician’s speech. In each case, someone puts more weight behind a choice they have already made. Whether that sounds charming, sensible or stubborn depends on the choice, and on who is describing it.
How the Phrase Left the Card Table
Double down comes from blackjack, where it names a betting option recorded in print by the late 1940s.
Today, it appears in business talk, political speeches and dating conversations, far beyond any online casino. The gambling connection deserves a reminder: gambling involves financial risk, and anyone who participates should set spending and time limits and seek support if it causes harm.
By 1991, Joseph Epstein was using the expression figuratively in his essay collection A Line Out for a Walk. It offered a way to describe taking a further risk outside gambling.
The meaning continued to broaden. Merriam-Webster includes becoming more determined in a position or undertaking. Dictionary.com describes increasing effort or holding to an opinion, especially under pressure.
Those definitions cover actions as well as arguments. Someone might spend more time developing a promising project, or defend a disputed view more firmly. The words leave room for both.
A Business Reason to Keep Going
Jeff Bezos supplied an example in his 2016 shareholder letter, released in April 2017. Writing about patient experimentation and attention to customers, the Amazon founder advised readers to “double down when you see customer delight”.
In the published letter, that advice sits alongside accepting failures, planting seeds and protecting young ideas. The sequence gives the expression a purpose: allow ideas to develop, notice what customers appreciate, then give those ideas more support.
Here, doubling down sounds considered. A positive response supplies the reason for doing more.
The phrase also does useful work without attaching a figure to the decision. It conveys increased effort while leaving the details to the situation. Picture a team finding that customers value a particular service and deciding to develop it further. The expression gives that decision a sense of confidence.
Put the same decision in a political argument, though, and someone may question the direction.
When Determination Becomes a Criticism
In his January 24, 2012 State of the Union address, Barack Obama described other countries as doubling down on education. The official transcript places the phrase in a discussion of teachers, skills and preparation for future employment.
Education was something to back more strongly. Obama’s wording gave added effort an approving tone.
Later that year, Bill Clinton used the expression against an opposing economic approach. His prepared remarks for the Democratic National Convention included “double down on trickle-down”, a line whose repeated sounds helped carry the criticism.
The contrast is revealing. Obama presented greater commitment as desirable; Clinton made it part of his objection. Both used the expression to describe pressing further along an existing path.
That difference helps explain why the phrase works in news and commentary. It can describe what someone is doing while also suggesting how the speaker feels about it. The judgement comes through the surrounding words, something readers can recognise in personal conversations too.
What It Sounds Like in Dating
Bumble brings the expression into familiar dating territory in its guidance for people recovering after ghosting. It encourages readers to double down on self-care, directing their energy towards their own wellbeing.
Psychologist Cheryl Harasymchuk uses it differently in an article published by Carleton University. Discussing positive relationship experiences, she gives the example of a couple following an enjoyable date night with more opportunities to spend time together.
These are gentler uses than Clinton’s political jab. One concerns looking after yourself; the other concerns making room for something you enjoy as a couple. Both give stronger effort an everyday, recognisable purpose.
They also show why the words following double down matter. Self-care, education and a disputed policy lead the reader towards different judgements about persistence.
Back in that imaginary message exchange, another awful pun might be welcome because both people are enjoying the joke. The shared response makes continuing it feel playful and personal.
That brings the expression back to ordinary conversation. Double down tells us that someone is committing more strongly. The rest of the story tells us what to make of it.

