The little Lutheran lady who battled the Nazis on Kristallnacht

Pauline Kellner is pictured in 1912.
Pauline Kellner is pictured in 1912. (Courtesy of Robert Scott Kellner)
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By ROBERT SCOTT KELLNER, November 8, 2019, New York Daily News.  Click for full report.
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Pauline Kellner hated the Führer’s posturing and bluster, and the vulgar remarks toward perceived enemies. His name was ever on the lips of his followers, but the wife of the courthouse manager in the small town of Laubach, Germany, refused to say “Heil Hitler” along with them. Pauline’s attitude was noted, and most of the townsfolk shunned her.

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She and her husband, Friedrich, had campaigned together as Social Democrats against the Nazi Party until Hitler came to power in 1933.

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Five years later, in mid-autumn 1938, they were still in the fight. Like journalists on the front lines of battle, they observed and recorded. Friedrich eventually would fill almost a thousand pages; his diary would be a “weapon of truth” for future generations to use against any resurgence of Nazi-types.

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That autumn of 1938, the prelude to the Holocaust began. Beginning in the evening of Nov. 9, local bands of Nazi Storm Troopers throughout Germany led a willing populace against their Jewish neighbors.

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It was almost midnight when brown-shirted Storm Troopers led a mob noisily past the Kellners’ apartment, which was situated on the ground floor of the courthouse. They were heading toward the home of the Jewish merchant Salli Heynemann and his wife Hulda. Three years earlier, Hulda had approached Pauline for help. The mayor and police had made up false charges against her son-in-law, Julius Abt, in order to confiscate his property.

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When Friedrich uncovered the truth, he and Pauline helped the Abts travel to Hamburg to leave for America. The Kellners tried to convince the elder Heynemanns to leave Laubach, too, but the old couple was certain their neighbors would do them no harm.

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Pauline looked through her apartment window with dismay. The leader of Laubach’s Storm Troopers was Albert Haas, the high school teacher. Many of his students were with him. Egging them on was the town bully, Willie Ruehl. Such a dreadful thing could not be allowed, Pauline told Friedrich, hurrying outside into the cold air.

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She yanked sharply on the jackets of the young boys, ordering them home. A few obeyed the furious lady. Friedrich caught up with Haas and Ruehl, demanding they stop. “You have no lawful order to be here! Why are you taking children into the night air?”

“We have our reason and that’s enough,” snapped the teacher. “If you try to stop us you’ll be sorry.’

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Hearing that, the indignant Pauline stretched her 5-foot frame before the 6-foot Nazi. “You, a teacher, in front of your students, threatening the court administrator? Leading your pupils into a criminal act?”

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Willie Ruehl and others blocked the Kellners’ passage and slowly forced them back to the courthouse. “You’re acting insane,” insisted Pauline, pushing against them but unable to break through the cordon.

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Friedrich went to the upstairs apartment in the courthouse to speak to the judge. Pauline went to see Frau Desch, leader of the Nazi Women’s League. Despite the late hour, no one in town was sleeping. Judge Schmitt refused to have the police intervene. Pauline had no better luck with Frau Desch.

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The Heynemanns and the Strausses in Laubach, and the Jews in the surrounding villages, were beaten, their homes damaged, and the contents tossed through the windows. The sidewalks were littered with broken glass. The Torah scrolls and books from the Laubach synagogue were burned in the market place.

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Friedrich would write later, “If the Jews — who have contributed real achievements over the centuries to our nation’s development — can be treated this way and made a people without rights, then that is an act unworthy of a cultured nation, and the curse of this evil deed will indelibly rest on the entire German people.”

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He attempted to press charges against Albert Haas and Willi Ruehl, but Judge Schmitt blocked it. “It is your wife who is under investigation now,” said the judge ominously. “And you, too.” The Kellners’ ancestry was to be searched for Jews. Nothing else could explain why they did not join the Nazi Party, why Pauline refused membership in the Women’s League, and why they were so concerned for Jews.

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Fortunately, Friedrich had family records dating back hundreds of years, including the Lutheran Church baptism certificates. “Doubts about their bloodlines cannot be validated,” wrote Chief Regional Court President Dr. Meier, who examined the papers and closed the case against them. Nevertheless, the Kellners were written up as “bad influences” and placed under surveillance by the Gestapo. Only Friedrich’s position in the justice ministry kept them from arbitrary arrest.

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There was to be some degree of justice. Both Albert Haas and Willie Ruehl were killed by Russian troops on the Eastern Front. Judge Schmitt, also sent to the front lines in the final months of war, would die in a Russian prison camp after six years of hard labor. “All guilt is avenged on earth!” Friedrich proclaimed.

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As for his petite wife and her attempt to stem the tide of senseless bigotry, the court administrator wrote this: “In all of Germany there are to be found few wives of officials who showed the same courage. Yes, she is most definitely courageous. The reader of my notes will understand when I propose here that a monument should be erected to my brave Pauline.”

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Kellner, grandson of Friedrich and Pauline Kellner, is a retired English professor who taught at the University of Massachusetts and Texas A&M University. He published the diary in its original language in Germany in 2011 and is the editor and translator of the English edition, “My Opposition: The Diary of Friedrich Kellner — A German against the Third Reich.”

AJC praises Greek Prime Minister Mitsotakis for endorsing International Antisemitism Definition

Click for link.

American Jewish Committee (AJC) CEO David Harris praised Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis for endorsing the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) Working Definition of Antisemitism.

Mitsotakis announced his endorsement in a meeting today with the Central Board of Jewish Communities in Greece (KIS) on the eve of the 81st anniversary of Kristallnacht.

AJC, the leading global Jewish advocacy organization, has long advocated for adoption by European governments of the working definition as a vital tool to mobilize against antisemitism.

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“To effectively combat antisemitism requires leaders who are willing to speak out and take action against the persistent hatred of Jews,” said Harris. “Thanks to Prime Minister Mitsotakis, Greece has joined the growing list of nations agreeing on defining antisemitism, including 13 European Union member states, though much more is needed to develop and implement concrete action plans.”

During his visit to Athens earlier this month, Harris met with the prime minister for an hour-long meeting, one of several meetings they have had in recent years. He was also a speaker at the AJC Global Forum, in Jerusalem in 2018.

The Hellenic American Leadership Council (HALC), a longstanding AJC partner, also had joined in advocating for Greece to endorse the working definition.

The IHRA definition, adopted by the alliance’s 31-member states in 2016, is based on the 2005 European Monitoring Centre (EUMC) Working Definition. It offers a clear and comprehensive description of antisemitism in its various forms, including hatred and discrimination against Jews, Holocaust denial, and, of particular note, antisemitism as it relates to Israel. Greece is a member of the IHRA.

AJC worked closely over a decade ago with the EUMC in developing this working definition as a tool for monitors and law-enforcement officials.

For more information download a copy of the AJC publication, The Working Definition of Antisemitism: What Does It Mean, Why Is It Important and What Should We Do With It?

58th Annual Silent Auction and Dinner honors Congressmen Brendan Boyle and Brian Fitzpatrick for their advocacy of Holocaust Education.

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Honorable Brendan Boyle
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From the beginning of his career in elected office, Congressman Brendan Boyle has been an advocate of Holocaust education for all young people. First as a Pennsylvania State Legislator and now in the U.S. Congress, he has been a leader and a partner in advancing HAMEC’s mission to use the lessons of the Holocaust to teach about the terrible consequences of hatred and bigotry.
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Honorable Brian Fitzpatrick
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Congressman Brian Fitzpatrick has made Holocaust education for all students a top legislative priority. He has made HAMEC’s mission his mission and is working to make our world a better place, by helping young people learn of the Holocaust and the importance of tolerance in our society.
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The cost is $95 per individual; $175 per couple. For additional information and to make reservations call 215.464.4701 or email info@hamec.org.
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The Holocaust Awareness Museum and Education Center is the premier provider of Holocaust education programs in the Delaware Valley. Each year museum programs provide students with Holocaust survivor presentations, school visits, videos, and plays such as the Anne Frank Theater Project.
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The museum is dedicated to educating students about the consequences of intolerance and hate. In the last school year alone, HAMEC completed 373 programs and reached over 43,777 students and adults in the Greater Philadelphia area, across the United States, and internationally.
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The Holocaust Awareness Museum and Education Center is a non-profit organization supported by grants from the Conference on Material Claims Against Germany, government and foundation grants and private donations.
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215.464.4701

Kristallnacht 81 years on: The German novelist who foretold the Holocaust

A book by Ulrich A. Boschwitz, who had Jewish roots, has been rescued from oblivion and has finally won fame in the mother tongue of the author who was forced to flee his homeland

 

The German novelist Ulrich A. Boschwitz (1915-1942)
Leo Baeck Institute
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One mid-July morning this year, a modest memorial ceremony took place for three former residents of 81 Hohenzollerndamm in Berlin, all members of the Boschwitz family who fled shortly after the Nazis took power in 1933.

One of the three, novelist Ulrich A. Boschwitz, has become the subject of heightened interest in the past two years due to the rediscovery of his two novels – some 80 years after they were written and 75 years after Boschwitz died at 27 in a naval disaster during World War II.

The mayor of the Berlin borough of Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf, where the building is located, took part in the ceremony, along with the German artist Gunter Demnig, who opened the event by engraving Stolpersteine – stumbling blocks – the small, gilded plaques on the pavement that memorialize victims of the Nazis who were forced to flee or were deported, often to their deaths.

Demnig had a lot of work on his hands that mid-July morning in Berlin; as soon as he was done with the stones for three members of the Boschwitz family – the author, his older sister Clarissa and their mother Martha – he rushed to two other Stolpersteine ceremonies.

But even in his absence it was hard not to think about the similarity between the Stolpersteine phenomenon and “Der Reisende” (“The Traveler”), Boschwitz’s second novel. It was written soon after Kristallnacht in November 1938 and describes the travails of a Berlin Jew, the businessman Otto Silbermann, who has fled his home, attempting to escape his homeland.

“Der Reisende” was written in German, but of course could not find a publisher under the Nazi regime. The manuscript went missing, and the work would traverse a long and winding road until it was finally published in Boschwitz’s mother tongue, winning its author belated fame.

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The German novelist Ulrich A. Boschwitz (1915-1942), right.
Reproduction by Tomer Appelbaum
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Boschwitz managed to get the book published in his lifetime in English, and when the war ended, in French, but it didn’t draw much attention. Boschwitz’s sister, who preserved his estate following her emigration to Israel, passed the estate on to her daughter, Reuella Shachaf. She in turn gave the estate – which did not include “Der Reisende” – to a German literary scholar from the United States, who transferred it to the Leo Baeck Institute in New York.

Shachaf believed in “Der Reisende” – she tried to pique the interest of publishers, editors and translators in Israel, but the author’s anonymity and the absence of the German manuscript hindered the production of a Hebrew version.

Then, four years ago, Shachaf read my Haaretz article about “Blood Brothers,” the 1932 novel by the forgotten German author Ernst Haffner. The book, which tells the story of street waifs in Berlin, had been rediscovered by the German publisher Peter Graf and was translated into many languages, including Hebrew. Shachaf wrote me and asked for my help in contacting Graf, who had been interviewed in my article. She hoped he might be interested in her uncle’s story and in rescuing him from the oblivion.

I mentioned this to the German-to-Hebrew translator Noa Kol, who searched for information on the author and discovered that a copy of the German manuscript of “Der Reisende” was stored in the foreign-literature archives of the German National Library in Frankfurt. The manuscript landed there after the author’s mother had handed it to another institution. From there it was passed from one archive to another, unbeknownst to other members of the family.

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The Hebrew version of Ulrich A. Boschwitz's novel "Der Reisende" ("The Traveler").
Achuzat Bayit Books
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When I told all this to Graf, he expressed great enthusiasm and a few days later even flew to Frankfurt to read the manuscript. He says he was fascinated by the text, apparently the earliest literary description of the fate of German Jews after Kristallnacht. He realized that the manuscript hadn’t been edited and felt that some editing could improve it immeasurably, a project he embarked on.

Graf was encouraged by the fact that Boschwitz continued to revise the book even after its initial publication in other languages – Boschwitz wasn’t satisfied with it – as well as by the author’s request to his mother on the eve of his death that she get the book published in German and that she tap the expertise of a literary expert to that end. “I really believe that there’s something in this book that can turn it into a success,” Boschwitz wrote to his mother in August 1942.

The book did become a literary sensation after Graf edited and published it via the Klett-Cotta publishing house in February 2018. It was praised in the German press, was compared to other prominent works of literature about the Nazi era, reached the best-seller lists and was sold for translation into 16 languages, including Hebrew.

And now, exactly 81 years after Kristallnacht, “Der Reisende” is being released in Israel with Kol’s beautiful, flowing translation. In the spring the book will also come out in English, by Metropolitan Books in the United States and Pushkin Press in Britain.

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Ulrich A. Boschwitz as a boy with his sister Clarissa and an aunt.
Reproduction by Tomer Appelbaum
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Graf says the belated discovery of the novel is like finding a message in a bottle 80 years later. “What makes it so special is the fact that Boschwitz wrote it in this form after the pogrom in 1938 – he feverishly composed it over the course of one month – but Ulrich had not experienced the later extermination of the Jews. What he describes stands at the beginning of a cruel process, it’s the beginning of physical violence, of systematic persecution, but it’s also the moment when the dehumanization of German society takes shape, where barbarism begins.”

As Graf puts it, “By means of Silbermann’s story, we see how the events undermined all of the certainty, and how a respectable citizen becomes subordinate and ostracized. I see the book as a manifesto of humanity because anyone who follows this process as a reader learns almost everything about what it means to be a human being. What dignity means, what guilt means. He even learns that victims can also be guilty, and vice versa, that in a climate of hate one can preserve one’s own empathy.”

Similar to Graf, many critics who reviewed the novel have been amazed at the way it brings history to life and slaps readers in the face. “‘Der Reisende’ moves the mass terror and suffering into the arena of literary fiction,” said the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, while Der Spiegel described the book as an exciting composition in which “Boschwitz develops an impressive panorama of the Germans of his time.”

Other critics praised the rhythm of the story that reads like a thriller – in which the author and his protagonists don’t know the end of the story or the destination to where the Nazis were sending the Jews.

“‘Der Reisende” has been compared in Germany to the works of major writers such as Anna Seghers, Elias Canetti and Imre Kertész, while Boschwitz’s first novel “Menschen neben dem Leben” (“People Next to Life”) has been mentioned in the same breath as novels by Hans Fallada, Joseph Roth and Alfred Döblin, Graf says. “In my opinion, these comparisons show just how talented Boschwitz was. And perhaps – one cannot know – if he had developed this talent for a long life, he would have created a work that went far beyond the two novels we know from him.”

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Reuella Shachaf at home in Ra'anana with a portrait of her uncle, novelist Ulrich A. Boschwitz, painted by his mother, October 27, 2019.
Tomer Appelbaum
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From trains to a sinking ship

Boschwitz’s rediscovery isn’t taking place in a void. Several German writers, some of them of Jewish origin, took their first literary steps during the final days of the Weimar Republic or at the dawn of the Nazi regime, were persecuted, and were forgotten. Then in the past two decades they have won wide recognition. The most prominent example is Fallada, along with Haffner, Hans Keilson and Irmgard Keun.

As with “Der Reisende,” there were writers who provided evidence of life in Nazi Germany but who were published in German only decades later. This includes two books that are mentioned in many discussions about Boschwitz’s novel: “Geschichte eines Deutschen: Die Erinnerungen 1914-1933 (“The Story of a German: Memoirs 1914-1933”) by the historian and journalist Sebastian Haffner, written in 1939, and the world-famous Nazi-period diary “I Will Bear Witness” by the linguist and literary scholar Victor Klemperer.

Unlike the latter two writers, “Der Reisende” isn’t a memoir or documentary work but historical fiction. Still, it’s based on authentic experiences, captures the spirit of the times and couldn’t have been written the same way later. For instance, Boschwitz’s main motif is Germany’s trains, which the protagonist Silbermann changes again and again; they move him from Berlin to Hamburg, Aachen, Dortmund, Dresden and back to Berlin.

But these aren’t the trains that charge through the collective memory in the wake of the Holocaust and that unavoidably lead to the concentration camps and death camps. In a sense, the trains in “Der Reisende” serve as a path to escape and a doorway to hope, just an instant before they were burdened with the hemorrhaging history of the first half of the 1940s.

Similarly, there’s the statement that Silbermann hears early in the novel from a waiter who thinks his client is an Aryan and who complains about the difficulty in identifying Jews. This statement could be interpreted differently than it was when the book was written.

The waiter says it would be better if Jews were forced to place a yellow ribbon around an arm to prevent “confusion”; this was written about a year before Polish Jews were forced to wear yellow patches and about three years before the Jews of Germany were forced to do so (even though the historical roots of this branding were planted as early as the Middle Ages).

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Ulrich A. Boschwitz as a 2-year-old with his mother, 1917.
Reproduction by Tomer Appelbaum
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Unlike the character Silbermann, the author Boschwitz left Germany early, already in 1935. He too was the scion of a well-to-do, respected family and didn’t consider himself a Jew. Born in Berlin in 1915, his father, who had died a few months earlier, was a converted Jewish physician and businessman born into a family of tradesmen.

Boschwitz’s mother Martha, a painter and the descendant of a family of German senators and Christian theologians from the northern city of Lübeck, raised Ulrich and Clarissa alone, giving them a Protestant education. After her husband’s death, she managed the family businesses and devoted the rest of her time to painting.

Clarissa, who studied medicine and social work, converted to Judaism and fled Germany in 1933, first to Switzerland and then to British Mandatory Palestine; her mother and brother left Germany about two years later.

Shachaf notes that they left in the wake of the 1935 Nuremberg Laws that institutionalized discrimination against the Jews. “But it seems that the more direct reason was the murder of Martha’s brother, the judge Alexander Wolgast,” she says.

“He was murdered in the street after declaring that the new laws of the Nazi regime were invalid as far as he was concerned. They left behind the house and their assets and began a journey of wandering – through Norway, Sweden, Luxembourg, Belgium and France.”

It was during these years of exile that Boschwitz began to write prose; in 1937 he published “Menschen neben dem Leben,” which focused on the socioeconomic problems in Berlin in the early ‘30s. He was only able to get the book published in a Swedish translation. The novel, which he wrote under the name John Grane, won high praise in Sweden.

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A portrait of Ulrich A. Boschwitz painted by his mother.
Tomer Appelbaum
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While his mother settled in London, Boschwitz found refuge in Paris, where he studied at the Sorbonne for a few semesters. In 1939 he joined his mother and that year “Der Reisende” was published in English, first in Britain and then in the United States. This novel, too, appeared under the Grane nom de plume; titles given it at the time were “The Man Who Took Trains” and “The Fugitive.”

In the tense geopolitical climate of the time, the novel’s reception was subdued, but some critics noticed its virtues. In 1940, the American magazine Saturday Review applauded it for its credible, simple and unsentimental description of life under the Nazi regime.

A short while after Boschwitz joined his mother in London and thought he had reached a safe haven, it turned out his odyssey hadn’t ended. At the outbreak of the war, both he and his mother were arrested, as were most Germans who had fled to Britain, even if they were Jewish or opponents of the Nazi regime.

In 1940, Boschwitz was sent to a prison camp in Australia aboard the HMT Dunera, a British passenger ship, along with 2,500 people, mostly fellow refugees from Germany and Austria. The ship became infamous for the abuse of the refugees during their two months onboard; some of the crew were eventually put on trial, the refugees won compensation, and Prime Minister Winston Churchill apologized. The crew looted the migrants, thus Boschwitz lost the manuscript of a new book he had completed (not “Der Reisende”).

During the two years he spent in an Australian prison camp, Boschwitz continued to write endlessly and began to revise “Der Reisende.” When the refugees were released in 1942, he requested to return to Europe and was due to join British military intelligence. He set sail for England aboard the passenger ship the Abosso.

Later on, Shachaf and her mother met an artist from Kibbutz Ein Gev in the north who had been at the Australian camp with Boschwitz. He told the women that Boschwitz was worried before the voyage and therefore wrapped around his body the manuscript of another new book. He hoped that if the ship sank maybe he’d be able to save the manuscript. On October 29, 1942, the ship was hit by two torpedoes fired by a German submarine, and 362 passengers drowned, including Boschwitz.

“To us, the absent Uncle Ulrich was very much a part of things, an uncle we never had the privilege to meet,” Shachaf says. “Throughout my entire early childhood and teen years, the portrait of him that my grandmother painted and sent to my mother was present; a painting I still have. Grandma had a hard time coming to terms with his death and believed that he had survived and was living on a desert island, and as a girl I also imagined this and fantasized that we’d find him someday.”

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The German novelist Ulrich A. Boschwitz (1915-1942), left.
Reproduction by Tomer Appelbaum

Encounters with other Germans

In “Der Reisende,” as the Gestapo searches for Silbermann, he puts together some cash and sets out, hoping he’ll find a crack through which he can be rescued. Thus begins an intricate adventure story in which train cars serve as a temporary home; he skips from place to place, always forced to continue on.

Along the way his “Aryan” looks and wad of money keep him on the go. In this story of a Jewish refugee who moves from train to train during the arrests of tens of thousands of Jews following Kristallnacht, a portrait emerges both of German Jews suffering the persecution of the late ‘30s and of German society as reflected in the protagonist’s encounters with other Germans.

In an epilogue, publisher Graf notes that the character Silbermann “reflects the rift in Boschwitz’s soul. Not only that Silbermann isn’t an especially likable person – there are times when he’s even revolted by his colleagues who share his misfortune – but also that not all the Germans he meets during his flight are bad people. He encounters a broad spectrum of characters in German society: those taking part in active persecution, those who take part in crimes, those who aid and abet crime, frightened Germans who turn a blind eye to the crimes, and courageous and compassionate Germans who provide aid to the persecuted. This is his view of the country and of the nation that he still feels a connection to.”

Shachaf notes the scene where Silbermann listens to two Nazis sitting next to him on a train and tries to find a new term to replace the word “culture,” which to them is a European term unsuited to the new German spirit. She says Silbermann, like Boschwitz, is an eyewitness to the collapse of values and concepts of the European culture he was raised on, to be supplanted by a nationalist and racist culture.

For 20 or so Israeli relatives of Boschwitz, the visit to Berlin this summer was an emotional closing of a circle. Shachaf, a 77-year-old from the Tel Aviv suburb of Ra’anana, was born about a month after Boschwitz’s death. She wrote a lecture for the Stolpersteine ceremony. Her younger brother, 71-year-old Doron Salzberg from Kibbutz Einat east of Tel Aviv, was choked up as he read aloud the family history.

At the end of the ceremony, memorial candles were lit next to the Stolpersteine and the national anthems of Israel and Germany were sung. Just as the crowd began to disperse, the door of the building where the Boschwitzes once lived suddenly opened and a current resident emerged. Holding a bouquet of flowers, she placed it next to the three Stolpersteine.

During the visit to Berlin, another event honoring Ulrich A. Boschwitz took place at the city’s Literaturhaus; first in German and then in Hebrew, actors read aloud a section of “Der Reisende.” Graf told the audience about the novel’s journey starting with the discovery of the manuscript in Frankfurt. He spoke about its impact, including its adaptation for the theater – the production at the Schauspielhaus Zürich and the upcoming efforts in both Germany and Poland. He said a letter he found in an archive reveals that in the ‘60s, future Nobel Prize winner Heinrich Böll failed in efforts to make “Der Reisende” known.

At the events, an excerpt of “Menschen neben dem Leben” was also read aloud. Amid the success of “Der Reisende,” publisher Graf brought this book out once again as well, starting in Germany a month ago. “It’s a brilliant urban novel,” he says.

Two Boschwitz manuscripts may have sunk into the depths of the sea, one during his voyage from England to Australia and the other on his return trip when his ship was torpedoed. But two novels have been dredged up from the depths of oblivion and have won fame in the mother tongue of an author who was forced to flee his homeland. At long last they have gained him entrance to the shelves of 20th-century German literature.

Survivor David Tuck shares his story at Danville Area High School in Central Pennsylvania

WNEP, November 5, 2019.  Click for full report and video.

Click for video from The Daily Item.

DANVILLE, Pa. – A Holocaust survivor provided a living history lesson for students at Danville Area High School on Tuesday.

The number 141631 is a number David Tuck will never forget. For two years of his life, that number was his identity. It was given to him at the Auschwitz concentration camp.

“When I went to sleep after a while, I used to say, ‘please, God, let me see the light of day,’ because I thought every night was my last night,” Tuck said.

David Tuck grew up with his grandparents in Poland. His life changed in 1939 when the Germans invaded Poland. The once carefree 10 year old had to wear an armband with yellow stars, that identified him as Jewish. He spent several years in concentration camps including Auschwitz.

“Got a slice of bread in the morning, a slice of bread in the evening and soup in the daytime. The soup, if you find a potato you were lucky,” Tuck said.

David speaks at schools all over the country. His goal is to spread awareness of the Holocaust.

On this day, David spoke to students at Danville Area High School. The freshman class is currently learning about the Holocaust. David is a family friend of ninth grader Luciano Spaventa, who asked if David could speak to the students.

“I thought it would have been an interesting event for the students who are learning about it to get a little firsthand experience of what it was like in the Holocaust,” Spaventa said.

David talked about the book he wrote, “David Tuck, a Story of Holocaust Survival.”

“I think it’s important because we need to learn about what happened so that it never happens again,” Delaney Bloom said.

David Tuck’s goal is to make Holocaust education mandatory in schools all over the country.