POST 205: ALFRED JULIUS BRUCK, FAMILY HISTORIAN INTERNED IN “INTERNIERUNGSLÄGER (ILAG)” (INTERNMENT CAMPS) IN GERMANY & AUSTRIA

 “The word most frequently used was ‘F. . .’ a word not to be found in the Oxford Dictionary. If you could imagine the offspring of every noun with which this adjective could be combined you would gaze at a string of crossword puzzles combined with an old curiosity shop.”

ALFRED JULIUS BRUCK, 1946

 

Note: In this post, I introduce readers to Alfred Julius Bruck whose relationship to me is unclear. He wrote a monumental family history ostensibly covering a 1000-year period of our Bruck family, and additionally an account of the almost six years spent in Nazi internment camps during the Second World War. Alfred Bruck was caught in 1939, but as a British citizen he was protected by the Geneva Convention covering foreign nationals. He was interned in civilian internment camps ILAG (“Internierungsläger”) in the Upper Silesian towns of Tost [today: Toszek, Poland] and Kreuzberg [today: Kluczbork, Poland], and liberated in Spittal an der Drau, Austria. Alfred’s memoir detailing his wartime experiences form the basis of this post.

Related Posts: 

POST 170: UNIQUE FAMILY PHOTOS FROM MY SECOND COUSIN’S COLLECTION 

POST 194: BRINGING TOGETHER FORENSIC GENEALOGY & ARCHAEOLOGY TO THE STUDY OF MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN’S ESCAPE FROM A GERMAN STALAG 

 

Alfred Julius Bruck’s name has long been known to me. I first came across it when I visited the FamilySearch Library (formerly the Family History Library) in Salt Lake City many years ago, and uncovered his grandiosely titled manuscript, “The Bruck Family: A Historical Sketch of a Jewish Family through a Thousand Years.” The manuscript documents my family’s origins, tracing its lineage throughout Europe. 

Let me provide some context. My friend from Wrocław, Poland (Breslau, Germany), Jakub “Kuba” Stankiewicz, the Director of Jazz Studies at the Karol Lipinski Academy of Music in Wrocław, recently brought a book entitled “No Justice in Germany: The Breslau Diaries, 1933-1941” to my attention. Written by Willy Cohn, an educator and historian from Breslau, it is an eyewitness account of the destruction of the city’s large, vibrant Jewish community under Nazi rule. Cohn details how the Nazi marginalization process gradually unfolded through systematic harassment, violence, and the loss of civil rights; he also describes the Jewish community’s efforts to maintain a semblance of normal life through the maelstrom. Cohn missed his own opportunity to flee while burying himself in his work. While he was able to help his three older children to emigrate, he, his wife, and their two youngest daughters were deported to Lithuania and murdered in 1941. 

Because of my own family’s longstanding connection with Breslau, Kuba rightly assumed I would be interested in Willy Cohn’s book. It is not my intention here to discuss the contents of Cohn’s account, an impossible task, but rather explore something I discovered in a footnote to his book. Knowing that his own deportation was quickly coming and that his time left was short, Willy Cohn devoted his remaining days to writing a memoir separate from his diary. Norbert Conrads, the editor of Willy Cohn’s book, added a footnote stating Willy had written a previous memoir that he had entrusted to an acquaintance named Alfred Bruck to transport out of Germany that had been confiscated from Alfred when he was arrested by the Gestapo: 

Cohn had once before written memoirs, between 1935 and 1938, although their scope is not known. In 1939, he gave his only handwritten manuscript to an acquaintance named Alfred Bruck, who was emigrating to England. Bruck, however, was arrested by the Gestapo and the manuscript seized.” (Cohn 2012: p 329) 

Uncertain whether the Alfred Bruck cited in Willy Cohn’s book was the documentarian I was familiar with, I turned to my distant cousin Helen Winter asking what she knew of his origins. She confirmed that Alfred Bruck came from Breslau and was indeed the person to whom Willy Cohn had entrusted his original memoir. Helen reminded me that in the Preface to his monumental family history, in paragraph 2, Alfred refers to having been arrested by the Gestapo and interned for the whole of the Second World War. (Figure 1)

 

Figure 1. Part of preface to Alfred Bruck’s historical sketch of the Bruck family where he mentions having spent the entire Second World War in German internment camps

 

Helen also directed me to the Leo Baeck Institute’s website where she told me I could download a detailed diary written by Alfred describing his almost six-year internment in German “Internierungsläger (ILAG)” (Internment Camps) between 1940 and 1945. As a Jewish man born in England, Alfred was sent to an Internierlungslager rather than a concentration camp, a move that unquestionably saved his life. As an incarcerated civilian he was interned in an ILAG rather than a Stalag, an enlisted prisoner-of-war camp. 

I can’t do justice to the many topics that Alfred covers in his 145-page diary. Instead, I will highlight and quote some passages that resonated with me and/or that may be of interest to readers. I invite readers curious about Alfred’s complete account to download the full diary from the LBI website. Before quoting and commenting on the extracted passages, let me tell readers a little about ILAGs. 

ILAGs were internment camps established by the German Army during the Second World War to hold Allied civilians caught in areas that were occupied by the German Army. These included American citizens caught in Europe after the United States officially entered World War II on December 8, 1941, when Congress passed a declaration of war against Japan following their surprise attack on Pearl Harbor the previous day. Following the U.S. declaration, Germany and Italy—members of the Axis powers—declared war on the U.S. on December 11, 1941. 

ILAGs also included citizens from Great Britain and the Commonwealth caught in areas occupied by the German Army. Among the internees were British-born citizens who were resident in the Channel Islands. Alfred Bruck comments on the arrival of these Channel Islanders at the ILAG where he was interned. (see below) These Channel Islanders wound up in an ILAG because of an October 1941 decree by Hitler ordering the internment of 8,000 British, in retaliation for the internment by the British Army of 800 Germans living in Iran. While not carried out until September 1942, it resulted in the deportation to camps in Germany of all British citizens not born in the Channel Islands, about 2,200 men, women, and children. 

The inmates in ILAGs were civilians and deemed to be “enemy aliens.” Because these internees were civilians, conditions in ILAGs were expected to follow international laws and treaties (such as the Geneva Convention), and internees often received food packages through the Red Cross. Alfred Bruck often speaks about receiving these packages. Notwithstanding the international laws and treaties governing treatment of the civilian internees, conditions could still be harsh, overcrowded, and highly restrictive. 

Alfred Bruck’s diary is entitled “The Sane Asylum.” Below, I quote from his diary periodically adding Editor’s Notes or commenting on Alfred’s observations: 

After having spent well over a year in various German prisons it was my misfortune, or perhaps my luck, to be interned in Tost [today: Toszek, Poland] and Kreuzburg [today: Kluczbork, Poland] in Upper Silesia [today: cross-border region between southern Poland (Opole Voivodeship) and the Czech Republic (the Moravian-Silesian Region)] for the greater part of the war, where the internees were housed, fed and detained in former lunatic asylums. Probably there was an unintentional sense of humor in this, as with the perverted mind of the Nazis there was surely more sanity in the asylums than in the Reich. . . 

There were a number of Ilags in Germany and in the German occupied countries. The first one created at the outbreak of the World War II was the Wülzburg camp in southern Germany [EDITOR’S NOTE: ILAG Wülzburg (officially Ilag XIII)], which housed many nationalities; but when Germany occupied one country after the other all were gradually released with the exception of the British. . . 

[Some internees]. . .were British by the fact that they were born by accident on British soil, though none of their parents were British. This applied to many of the Jewish internees from Belgium. Their parents had been refugees in England during World War I, when they were born. Their brothers and sisters born in Belgium after their return were Belgian and with their parents met the fate of millions of other European Jews. One man was a gypsy, a typical Berliner, who had a grand sense of humour. He was born in Glasgow by some accident, but was wise enough to take out a British passport before the outbreak of the war, though he could not speak a word of English. His wife and family who were British by marriage were sent with all the other gypsies to the dreaded Auschwitz camp and exterminated. Another group consisted of Poles, Czechs and other nationalities who had emigrated to Canada, returned and lost their citizenship, but were considered fit for internment by the Germans as former citizens of the British Empire. This saved the lives of many who would otherwise have become victims of the Nazi slave gangs. Two others were by some wonder transferred from the Auschwitz camp and had their Auschwitz Nos. tattooed on their arms. 

The men came from all walks of life and from all over the world, some kept in the background, mainly those who were somebody outside, others tried to balance their inferiority by making up stories and pretending to be outside what they were not. Thus one joke summed up the men by saying that none were below the rank of a captain while serving in the army and nobody had a position lower than that of a company director. . .Even spies and informers were among the men; the latter were often visited by the ‘Holy Ghost,’ who meted out their just punishment. 

. . .in an Ilag, a man of confidence had to be elected by the men and accepted by the Germans without any power to give orders. 

. . .nothing helped more to sustain the morale of men than to keep themselves occupied. I personally was very fortunate in that respect: I was the camp secretary for the greater part of my internment, I was in charge of the reference library, I studied, I gave classes and lectures, carried on with my daily physical exercises to keep fit, indulged in gardening in the summer months and always found something to do. But it meant will-power which most men were lacking. 

Two institutions kept us alive, spiritually, mentally and bodily: the YMCA and the Red Cross. Both paid us regular visits. . . 

Many things were ‘verboten’ [EDITOR’S NOTE: forbidden] including maps. . .We were not allowed to have haversacks, German currency, foreign bank notes, any valuables, cameras, radio sets, books by Jewish authors, but the list of prohibited articles varied with the Camp Kommandants; in some cases even razor blades were limited in number, but we did not shave too often anyhow and many grew beards in the winter. 

There were times when we were hungry and cold, when we would have given a fortune for a piece of bread, when we were eating black and green and frozen potatoes and even with the peeling, when we had to endure cold without heating and sufficient blankets, when before the arrival of Red Cross clothing we at times had little to wear, when during our sleep the heavy tread of the Jerry boots on their inspection rounds had rudely to awaken us, when during air raids we were kept in the barracks without air raid shelters and were prepared for our last hour, but trusted to some unknown power that the worst would not happen, there were times when life seemed so barren, when we had an eternity of time at our disposal to brood and think and to enquire into our own self, when we were building castles in the air, dreaming of the past, of the future. 

In this long period of enforced idleness and in these morbid surroundings we slowly built a new life. Necessity became the mother of invention, out of boards, boxes, tins we made things to better our lives. . .The professional electricians knew how to divert the current from the switch boxes. . .and when the Germans locked and padlocked the fuse and switch boxes, we still found ways to overcome the new difficulty. Thus we were provided with electric lights, with cookers, heaters, radio, until one fine day the electricity works made a complaint to the Kommandant that the main cable to our camp was getting so hot at certain hours of the day that it might burn through and cut us off altogether. 

Humour was our greatest asset, the one thing the Germans could never grasp or understand. . .Our humour always puzzled them: to ridicule ourselves, to cheer the Germans when they announced a great victory or burst out in roars of laughter when the radio proclaimed with all the solemn ritual of the German war propaganda machinery the sinking of another 100,000 tons of British shipping made them either think that our mind was slowly being affected by barbed-wireritis or that the German propaganda had worked. Perhaps Bernard Shaw was right when he said of the German Intelligence Service in World War I that they were ‘Everything else but intelligent’. 

According to his diary, Alfred Bruck arrived at internment camp in Tost [Toszek, Poland] at 8pm on Thursday, December 12th, 1940, along with five other men from Breslau [Wroclaw, Poland]. The following morning, he had to complete all sorts of forms and was assigned the number 1133 on a piece of cardboard (Figure 2) which was later exchanged for a metal disc, which he had to wear on a piece of cord around his neck.

 

Figure 2. Alfred Bruck wearing on a piece of cardboard the number 1133 which he was assigned upon his arrival at the “Internierlungslager” in Tost, Germany (today: Toszek, Poland) in December 1940 (Source: Alfred Bruck Collection, DM 325; Leo Baeck Institute)

 

ILAGs, like Stalags, were run by the German Army, the Wehrmacht, versus the Gestapo, although the Gestapo had a security officer attached to the ILAG. The Kommandant was a lieutenant colonel who was rarely present. The running of the camp was mainly in the hands of the Oberleutnants or first lieutenants. 

The camp in Tost where Alfred was held was a former lunatic asylum. After the asylum inmates were transferred, political prisoners were housed there for a time, then Poles, after which it became an ILAG. Building I was a dormitory with many rooms and a chapel; Building II contained the mess rooms and dining rooms, tailor and cobbler workshops, and the canteen with hardly anything to be had. Building III, dubbed the “White House,” is where concerts, services, lectures, classes, etc. took place. 

When Alfred arrived at the ILAG, there were 1,135 prisoners, mostly from Holland, Belgium, France, and a few from Poland, Germany, and Norway. 

There was a set program for the day. Reveille was at 6am, breakfast 7-7:30, roll call at 8:45, two dinner seatings at 12:15 and at 1pm, tea at 4-4:45pm, then evening roll call at 8pm, and lights out at 9:15pm. 

The main topics of discussion were of course the political situation, military rumors, and the question of food, not enough meat, the awful cooking, and jealousy if one got more than another. 

Internees could receive an unrestricted number of letters, but were only allotted four postcards, and three letter cards a month to send to their nearest relatives. 

During one thorough search of the dormitory, Alfred’s diary was found: “A soldier had my diary in his hands: when he asked about it I told him that I was teaching in the camp and that these were the notes I needed for the class. The text was in English, written in an exercise book, and he did not understand English anyhow; so he was glad when I could enlighten him in German. But ever since I was careful to hide my diary. I wrote it out again in a very small hand-writing and stuck the sheets between the inner layer and the leather of my suitcase. Later I had it in the hollowed-out plank of a case which I took out and placed in its original position. The diary sheets were never found in subsequent searches, though beds, straw sacks, pillows, valises were thoroughly examined. 

Alfred Bruck was one of the few internees in the ILAG who knew English and German fluently. When he arrived in the internment camp, word erroneously got out that he was a reporter for the “Times” [presumably the “London Times”], something he denied. In real life, he was an art-print publisher, writer, and historian. Because he was bilingual, he could give out the news from the not entirely truthful German-language newspapers available to internees, so developed a regular news bulletin in the camp. Once the news bulletin in his dormitory room got known, others requested Alfred read out the news in their rooms; he was occasionally rewarded with cigarettes (since he didn’t smoke, he could easily exchange these for foodstuffs), sweets, and chocolate. This made Alfred very popular in camp. 

On Alfred’s birthday in 1941, March 28th, an illegal radio was turned on for the first time. Alfred got on the German’s radar, and he was warned by the camp office only to read the news in the rooms to avoid anything official. In June, he was called to the Gestapo captain and security officer and accused of spreading “propaganda with the intent of undermining the morale of the camp” by giving out news obtained from newspapers, radio, or possibly illegal sources. He was severely reprimanded and warned that he could be punished with imprisonment up to 10 years or even executed. The extent of Alfred’s treasonable offense became evident the following day when the Germans published their own news sheet in the camp. It was nothing but the official party line translated into English and French. The contemptible part was that a subscription to this official communique by the German Supreme Command had to be paid for out of camp funds! 

On the rumor that Russia had entered the war, Alfred remarks: 

June 22nd Russia was in the war. The news became known in the camp early in the morning and opinion was very divided whether it was rumour or a fact. At 12:30 we heard on the radio officially that Germany had invaded Russia. The night before searchlights had been observed by some internees and for weeks we had watched the trains and the endless convoys clattering along the roads to the East, even Red Cross cars full of soldiers and anti-aircraft guns scattered in between. . . 

Regarding the inhumane treatment of Russians: 

In October [1941] I was working on a farm at Kesslern for a few days, sorting and loading potatoes. . .The guard who was in charge of us had recently arrived from Lamsdorf [EDITOR’S NOTE: Łambinowice, Poland], and unknowingly he confirmed to me that the Russian prisoners there were dying like flies and were receiving inhuman treatment, but he said that it was their own fault, as they had not signed the Geneva Convention. I am sure that if they had signed it the Germans would have found some other excuse. 

As I discussed in Post 194, I visited the former prisoner-of-war camp at Łambinowice (Lamsdorf-Stalag VIIIB) in August 2025 to observe ongoing metal detecting going on there in connection with archaeological excavations. My purpose was to see firsthand the POW camp where my father’s first cousin, Heinz Löwenstein, had been interned and where he’d successfully escaped from. Coincidentally, on the very day my wife and I visited, the collapsed tunnel my father’s cousin used to escape was exposed by metal detectorists. In any case, on the large compound where the Lamsdorf POW camp was located now stands a memorial to the many Russian soldiers who died there in numbers far greater than soldiers of other nationalities. (Figure 3)

 

Figure 3. War monument at Łambinowice (Lamsdorf-Stalag VIIIB) dedicated specifically to the Russian soldiers who died there during the Second World War

 

When the occasion presented itself, British soldiers at the ILAG would share food with Soviet internees. Nazi Germany treated Soviet prisoners with extreme brutality due to Hitler’s Weltanschauung (Worldview), which deemed the war in the East as a racial war of annihilation. Hitler categorized Slavic peoples and Communists as Untermensch (subhumans) and a “Judeo-Bolshevik” threat. This ideological framework justified the deliberate starvation, execution, and enslavement of millions of Soviet captives. 

Also, as Alfred notes, because the Soviets were not signatories to the 1929 Geneva Convention, Nazi Germany’s high command used this as a justification to declare they were not bound by the treaty, resulting in horrific mistreatment and starvation of Soviet prisoners of war. As an aside, the Soviet Union only signed the four primary 1949 Geneva Conventions on August 12, 1949, and formerly ratified them on May 24, 1954. Following the 1991 collapse of the USSR, the Russian Federation inherited and continues to abide by its core commitments. 

Regarding trading items from Red Cross parcels with local Poles: 

The coal [for heating] for the camp was generally brought from the station by outside carts. Three young Poles were the drivers. They used to trade things, toothpaste, lighters, etc. for cigarettes, soap, chocolate, things on which people in the village were very keen. The smell of English cigarettes betrayed them one day; their boss gave them away and they were arrested by the Gestapo. 

On the arrival of the so-called Wulzbergers and the segregation of Jews: 

. . .the main camp for civilian internees was the Wulzburg [see above], the first to be established in the Third Reich. It housed all the early internees arrested in Germany and Poland, later also those arrested in Denmark and Norway. There were other nationalities apart from the British, but they were later released when Germany took over the rule of the occupied countries. End of September the camp was disbanded and was to be used for Russian prisoners. 

On Friday, October 3rd, these Wulzbergers arrived at our camp. . .On the whole the Wulzbergers were very unruly. 

Their arrival caused a great stir in the camp, as they were used to more freedom and less discipline; they gave our camp a new spirit, particularly for shows, concerts, lectures, education and news service. 

The majority were housed in room 501, my old room. One fellow caused all Jews to be removed to room 407 on the day of their arrival, but our [EDITOR’S NOTE: English] Camp Captain got this order withdrawn two days later and the following day all those who wanted to return to their old rooms could do so, though many chose to stay there including all the Jews from the Wulzberg where they had been segregated. 

On the treatment of informers: 

Beginning of December Perry, an informer, got a ducking [sic]; he was awarded the Order of the Bath on two successive nights. He was fetched from his room, dragged along the corridor to the top floor outside room 501, where a bath tub with water was standing for fire emergency. The fellows used to stand around it, spit into the filthy water, throw their matches and cigarette ends in and now it served a novel purpose. When Perry came out of his ordeal he rushed down leaving wet foot prints all along the stairs and corridors. I saw Patton coming out of his room and glancing at the wet marks; he pulled a face and knew why: he was also down for it. Perry went to hospital with stomach catarrh the next day, remained in the sick room until a few weeks later he was transferred to another camp to continue his pro-German activities. 

Further on the Russians: 

Red Cross parcels were coming in fairly regularly, and we received two Xmas parcels between three men. I can still see the German guard at the parcel office supervising the issuing and telling us how well off we were compared with the Russians, who were tearing the hearts out of dead bodies and carving pieces of meat from the legs of their dying comrades, scenes he had witnessed as a guard at his previous camp, as he assured us. It did not say much for the treatment the Germans were giving them nor the food rations they issued to the Russian prisoners, if they were all that hungry. 

In the Spring of 1942, following visits by Swiss representatives and the German War Ministry, the internment camp at Tost was condemned as overcrowded and the number had to be reduced. It was decided to establish a branch camp in Kreuzburg [today: Kluczbork, Poland], formerly a French officers’ camp, about 48 miles away (Figure 4), and Alfred was transferred there. (Figure 5) A total of 320 men were slated to leave. Alfred recalls when the names were read out: “. . .I was the first, and it soon transpired that all Jews were being called first and conducted to Building I, top floor, which was the Jewish Section. Discrimination was now an established fact, though nowhere was it officially mentioned. All protests were to no avail.

 

Figure 4. Map showing the distance between the civilian internment camps located at Tost (Toszek, Poland) and Kreuzburg (Kluczbork, Poland)

 

Figure 5. Alfred Bruck at Kreuzburg in January 1943 (Source: Alfred Bruck Collection, DM 325; Leo Baeck Institute)

 

Regarding Kreuzberg Alfred notes: “Kreuzberg, founded in 1253, was a district town with an important railway junction and it had one advantage that we could see from our camp windows the clocks of two spires, of the church and the townhall, and what was even more, we could hear them strike, though their time was not always correct. 

Again, remarking on Russian prisoners: “In June Russian prisoners, and some fine-looking fellows too, arrived and were accommodated in the Kommandantur building. A request was made to collect our bread crusts for them, as they didn’t get any Red Cross or private parcels and they didn’t have enough to eat, particularly as the potato rations at that time of the year were not adequate. Sally gave one of them some cigarettes; the guard saw it and hit the Russian across the back with his rifle and confiscated the cigarettes. The Germans treated the Russians and Poles just like dirt as long as they were victorious, but later when too many Germans fell into their hands they changed their policy. 

On German Army progress on various fronts: 

January 1943 “. . . brought great news, which slowly poured into the camp. Stalingrad, the Caucasus, the Don, North Africa were becoming hot spots for the Germans in spite of their victory propaganda. Rumours with exaggerated news did the rest to buck up the morale and to give us good hopes of an early return. There were quite a number of air raid alarms and January 30th was no national holiday in Germany this year in spite of the tenth anniversary of Hitler’s Third and Last Reich. 

On the arrival of the Channel Islanders: 

March 1st [EDITOR’S NOTE: 1943] a group of men from the Channel Islands arrived. Some had been in jail or institutions. There were quite a number of youngsters among them who had caused trouble to the Germans. They livened up the camp, but in many ways they were a great nuisance, as quite a few were involved in pinching, stealing, racketeering and gambling. 

On the new Kommandant, Capt. Schumann, a lawyer in Berlin: 

Schumann, who remained with us for over a year, turned out to be a very fine Kommandant. He rarely came into the camp, except on roll call, he never bothered us, he was very decent towards the Jews, and a Jewish problem did not exist for him. 

The following month he told Feldwebel [EDITOR’S NOTE: typically translated as sergeant or staff sergeant] Pyttel off for his Jew-baiting when he tried to stop the Jews from going out to work. Pyttel hated the Jews and liked to tell them gruesome stories about what had happened in Poland, he was particularly fond of relating the story of the Warsaw Ghetto. . .The day following the telling-off he looked very small on parade and stopped all his cunning jokes. 

On the radio in camp and hearing the BBC news: 

On one fine day we smuggled our own radio components into the camp, first crystal sets and ear phones. . .As time went on all main parts were smuggled in and some experts built a grand set, which was hidden in a cupboard. The Germans knew we had the set, but they closed an eye. Under Capt. Schumann’s regime we had nothing to fear. If a search was to take place somehow or the other we always got a tip in time. 

News reports eventually became a barometer for the morale of the camp. If the news was good the spirits went up, but if a word of caution was issued or the news was not good, then a wave of depression came across the camp. 

July 26th the Duce [Mussolini] resigned. The news came through on the radio at 7a.m. The camp went crazy. 

When the Russian break-through occurred in January 1945 it was us who received the news and reported the situation and position of the troops to the Germans. They were completely cut off and would not believe us until they were faced with the hard realities. 

It was during the same month of January 1945 that our camp was removed to Spittal a. D. [Spittal an der Drau, Austria]. We dismantled the set and placed the parts in the medicine ball. The latter was given to the Germans to take along with other sports gear. So they not only unwittingly transported the set for us, but even restored it to us at the new camp. 

On Germans forcing Poles to fight for them: 

[One day] I was out in the fields cutting turf for the camp grounds. One guard could hardly speak German. He was a ‘Volksdeutscher’ [see below] from Pomerellen [EDITOR’S NOTE: Pomerania], that part of Poland that formerly belonged to the Polish Corridor. He had fought in the Polish Army against Germany; the Germans gave him the choice of remaining a Pole, in which case he would have been sent to a concentration camp meaning certain death, or becoming a German and then joining the army, which at least gave him a chance of survival. He hated the Germans, who had even forbidden the use of the Polish language, though among themselves they took no notice of this order. He was just itching for the day of revenge. 

In June 1944, discussions on P.O.W. exchanges commenced. The news was brought to the camp office from the Swiss Legation in Berlin in a letter, the contents of which were restricted to a very small circle. Alfred Bruck became involved because his skill as an interpreter was needed. Amid his work behind closed doors, news arrived that D-Day had come at last. Since there was no German so-called “Sondermeldung” (Special Announcement), the internees knew the invasion had been successful. 

An attempt on Hitler’s life was made on July 20, 1944: 

July 20th the attempt was made on the life of the Fuehrer. There was great anxiety in the camp. What would happen now? The German security officer, Hauptmann Glauch, was walking across the grounds as if he was absent-minded to everything that was going on around him. The expression on his face betrayed that he was opposed to Hitler and was therefore fearing his arrest if the plan was miscarried. Soldiers were whispering to each other. A few days later the ‘Hitler gruss’ [EDITORS’S NOTE: Nazi salute] was introduced in the army, we could not help bursting out in roars of laughter when we saw the guards stretching out their arms on morning roll call. The officers did not seem to like it. 

The above passage warrants a few remarks. Adolf Hitler survived over 40 assassination attempts, with the closest call occurring on July 20, 1944. On this date, German Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg successfully planted a briefcase bomb in a conference room at the “Wolf’s Lair” headquarters in East Prussia. Hitler survived the explosion. The Hitlergruss (German for “Hitler greeting”) is the formal term for the Hitler salute and involved extending the right arm rigidly forward and upward at a 45-degree with the palm facing down. Judging from Alfred Bruck’s observations, the Nazi Party was clearly trying to reassert control over the military and assure they had trusted people in place. 

As the Germans fortunes shifted in eastern Europe during the war, the football grounds and the swimming pool meadows at the Kreuzberg internment camp began to be used to accommodate parking carts and horses of the so-called “Volksdeutsche” refugees. These refer to the millions of ethnic Germans who lived outside the borders of Nazi Germany (e.g., in Czechoslovakia, Poland, Romania, Hungary, and Yugoslavia) who fled or were forcibly expelled from their homelands during and after the Second World War:

On “Volksdeutsche” refugees: 

They had come with everything they could load on their carts, which were drawn by camels as well as horses. Some of them had been over a year on the go, and more pathetic sights of displaced Germans to the Reich were to follow as time went by. 

The last Christmas behind barbed wire, Christmas 1944: 

At last the last Christmas had arrived, Xmas 1944; it was to be the saddest of them all, but it was to be the last one behind barbed wire. We were living under the shadow of great events, it was the eve of the great Russian offensive, the calm before the storm. There was no heating and it was so cold. There was no food, as by Himmler’s outrageous orders the last Red Cross parcels had been given out in November. Five young fellows managed to catch a cat and had her roasted for their Xmas dinner. The German meal was pretty meagre: peas, potatoes, and goulash, but a feast after the continuous meals of barley, swedes and sauerkraut. 

The Russians break through: 

Slowly the situation was becoming strained. The Russians were advancing, the Germans could not believe their own senses, they simply could not grasp the fact that the Russians had broken through the German lines and were on their march towards Kreuzberg. We, with our secret wireless sets, were better informed than they were, and when we informed them of the capture of Welun [EDITOR’S NOTE: Wieluń, Poland] (FIGURE 6) they replied with a smile that they had only phoned through to their military post during the afternoon and received a reply from there. The next day they found out that we were right: the Russians had surrounded and by-passed the town, leaving the telephone line intact thus giving our Kommandant the impression that we were trying to fool them.

Figure 6. Map showing the distance from Kreuzburg (Kluczbork, Poland) and Welun (Wieluń, Poland), the town the Russians bypassed and surrounded to fool the Germans about their location

 

There was talk of the camp removal. . . 

With the week starting Monday [January 1945] 15th, things began to move. . . 

In the afternoon Tom [EDITOR’S NOTE: the camp’s so-called trusted representative] explained the situation to the camp in the Festsaal [EDITOR’S NOTE: banquet hall] and that if necessary we would have to walk to the nearest station from where we could get transport. He had, however, pointed this impossibility out to the Kommandant and a telegram was sent to the Swiss legation in Berlin. According to the Geneva Convention only military prisoners could be forced to march, but civilians had to be evacuated by transport. We ourselves were none too keen on leaving, we would rather stay and be rescued by the Russians, though a few seemed more scared of the Russians than of the Germans. 

The flight from Kreuzberg finally commenced: 

The march to the station was most interesting, just like a flight. The temperature was 22 degrees below freezing point. The town was deserted, the Kreisleiter [EDITOR’S NOTE: District Leader] had shot himself the day before, the Nazis had all gone, they were the first to leave, the post office was closed, Russian prisoners, locked up in the Gustav Freytag Schule, were looking out of the windows, at all entrances to the town were tank traps, wooden piles driven into the ground, the small bridges undermined, all the work of the Volkssturm with their weekly trench digging had been in vain. The streets were full of lorries, tanks, cars, hardly a soul was about, except soldiers. 

Observation about the train trip to Spittal: 

Outside we heard yelling and shouting. ‘Halt die schnauze’ [EDITOR’S NOTE: “shutup” or “shut your mouth”] and other vile expressions emanating from the uncouth mouths of the inhuman guards with their sticks and to us ‘close the windows,’ threatening to shoot. What a sight! A sight that unrolled the whole Nazi regime, a screaming witness to German Kuktur; if we never knew why the world was fighting Germany we knew it now. There stood a train with open trucks full of Jews standing in the bitter cold, only with a blanket round their head, and ten days on their way from Auschwitz to Dachau. Seventy had already died since they left Auschwitz. They were from all over Europe, mainly from France, Belgium and Holland. The Russians were approaching, and in spite of everything the Germans could find the transport means to get them away by hook or crook. 60,000 they gave as the figure evacuated. In spite of all the shouting we managed to throw some food across to them. They assured us that all we had heard on the radio about Auschwitz was nothing compared to the real truth. A few months later I heard with my own ears on the radio at Spittal when Germany had surrendered that the total figure of murders came to 4,000,000. 

The internee’s relocation from Kreuzberg to Spittal, 360 miles (Figure 7), took 11 days from Friday, January 19, 1945 until Monday, January 29, 1945:

 

Figure 7. Map showing the distance from Kreuzburg (Kluczbork, Poland) to Spittal an der Drau, Austria where the civilian internees were moved in January 1945 as the Russians were approaching

 

Thus our journey of eleven days had ended. We were very fortunate to get through without any mishap, not once were we bombed during the day or night when remaining at a railway station, not once were we attacked by dive bombers. Quite a number had escaped, but they were all caught in the end and sentenced to the inevitable 21 days bunker. 

Observations about the increasing number of air raids while interned in Spittal: 

Then in the late afternoon some more planes flew overhead, we were watching them from the windows when suddenly they dropped their loads and hit the station, which was blown sky-high. The boys had done some good work, had hit a supply train with food and munition and war material, had blocked the line for over a week, burnt trucks and twisted the rails. Heavy traffic on the roads, mostly at night, was to replace the rail traffic. The Germans salvaged what they could, and to us it meant almost three weeks of tinned meat instead of fresh meat. Some of the tins were scorched and the meat affected with the result that the camp had diarrhea for almost two weeks. 

During all these raids we had to stay in the huts, while the Germans hurried to the shelter. Then when the planes had passed overhead they were sitting at the entrance enjoying the warmth of the Spring sun. 

The air raids continued right through March [EDITOR’S NOTE: 1945]. On the 10th a German transport was blown up a few miles away and ten killed. On the 13th we counted 540 planes flying over the camp, they came in wave after wave in wonderful formation; one bomb was dropped by a returning plane as an emergency without doing any damage. That day Regensburg and Munich had been heavily bombed. The following day we observed three fighters rushing across the skies, their white vapour lines looking like snakes across the blue. A whistle sounded and the Jerries disappeared down the shelters like rats down a hole. 

Alfred often remarks about the beauty of the mountains surrounding the internment camp at Spittal, which interestingly internees were occasionally permitted to explore on their own or in the company of German staff sergeants: 

Unteroffizier Schwetz took me, Ted, Crowther, Evrall and Farringer for a nice walk through the woods and over the mountains to the Millstaetter See. . .We had a beautiful view of the lake from St. Wolfgang as far as the Seeboden and across the Millstatt itself. Beautiful was also the view of the mountains with the snow-covered peaks of the Goldeck, Kreuzeck smiling down on the Drau Valley with its green meadows and trees and flowers and Spittal with its red roofs and coloured houses shining in the sun. 

Various observations about the end of the Second World War as seen from Spittal: 

The people in town wanted from me the latest news, wanted to know when the Nazis would go through though they themselves were listening in to the BBC at times. Though nothing was to be had officially except on ration cards we could get postcards, books, papers, much to the annoyance of the Reichsdeutsche [EDITOR’S NOTE: literally “Germans of the Reich” or ethnic Germans], who were cursing the Austrians for all they were worth. I tried to get a copy of ‘Mein Kampf,’ but there were none to be had. One woman told me that she would keep the only copy in her possession for her children so that they had a souvenir of the wonderful times they had gone through. 

Everywhere in town there were posters from Hitler’s recent proclamation to the German people, one of them was really a joke at this stage of the war, could only be the utterance of a maniac: Berlin bleibt deutsch, Wien wird wieder deutsch, und Europa wird niemals bolschewistisch. (Berlin will remain German, Vienna will be German again, and Europe will never be Bolshevist). 

The following evening was the eve of his birthday. Goebbels gave his customary speech on the radio. We could all hear him in the camp on the loudspeaker which was specially placed at the open window of the Kommandatur for our benefit. The leitmotif was ‘Deutsche Treue’ [EDITOR’S NOTE: German loyalty]. To us it sounded like a swan song. 

April 20th was the Fuehrer’s birthday, and his last one, too. There were no celebrations, no flags flying. In town the butcher shop seemed to be the only one with the window daily decorated with colours and a picture of Hitler. 

Outside in the world at large Mussolini had been captured and lynched, and the Allied Armies had linked up with the Russians. 

30th [April]. It was given out on the radio that the German Government had agreed to the British proposal of no further removals of P.o.W. camps and as the German Government was no more in touch with all the camp Kommandants this message should be conveyed to them by all possible means, if necessary by the prisoners themselves, who were not supposed to have radio sets or listen in to the home news. This was great news and with the other political events many internees were going off their head. 

But what the camp did not know was that instructions had been received from the British War Office a long time ago as to what precautions we were to take when the war would end. Only a trusted few were informed, and this trusted committee made out a list of all men who could be trusted to act under instructions when the emergency should arise and tasks they were to perform. The lists were all typed out long before the end came, but the Germans surrendered in the end and the Kommandant handed the camp over to the British military in an orderly manner, so that it was never found necessary to apply these instructions. 

The Westlager (West Camp) in Spittal, the POW and post-war displaced persons camp complex where Alfred was interned, was handed over by the German Kommandant to the British Military Authorities on Wednesday, May 9, 1945, at 3pm. In his memoir, Alfred remarked on a grand sight that took place that same day: 

About 4.30 p.m. we were to witness the grandest sight of the day and one of the grandest of the whole war. Planes suddenly appeared overhead, generally in waves of three, and dropped parachutes with tin canisters containing food and medical supplies. They landed on the field, on the camp, on the buildings, the roofs, the observation post of the sentries, crashed on the telephone lines, tore down the electric cables so that for the following two nights we were without light. 

Alfred Bruck’s grandson, Richard Schneider, donated his grandfather’s manuscript to the Leo Baeck Institute (LBI) in memory of his mother, Pauline Leonora Julia Schneider, née Bruck (1939-2016). Included in this donation were some photographs including one of the planes dropping parachutes with canisters of food and medical supplies on May 9th. (Figure 8) Also included were some private photographs pertaining to Alfred Bruck and his family. (Figure 9) A particularly noteworthy one was taken in 1950 showing Alfred Bruck’s daughter, Pauline at age 10, standing behind Rabbi Leo Baeck. (Figure 10)

 

Figure 8. On May 9, 1945, VE Day, following the liberation of the ILAG at Spittal, Allied planes dropping parachutes with tin canisters containing food and medical supplies (Source: Alfred Bruck Collection, DM 325; Leo Baeck Institute)

 

Figure 9. Undated photo of Alfred Bruck with his wife and children (Source: Alfred Bruck Collection, DM 325; Leo Baeck Institute)

 

Figure 10. Photo taken in 1950 of Alfred Bruck’s daughter, Pauline at age 10, standing behind Rabbi Leo Baeck (Source: Alfred Bruck Collection, DM 325; Leo Baeck Institute)

 

Alfred and the other internees were eventually repatriated to their countries of origin. In Alfred’s case, he made his way back to England a little more than a month later. Alfred goes into quite a bit of detail on his circuitous trip via truck transport from Spittal, Austria to Naples, Italy, then by boat to England, including the multiple administrative tasks he was assigned and the post-war damage he witnessed on his way to Naples. As mentioned earlier, I invite interested readers to access Alfred’s complete diary. 

In Post 170, I discussed some unique family photographs I obtained from my second cousin, Margarita Vilgertshofer, née Bruck. One photograph I included in that post was an undated one of Alfred Bruck with his wife Rosie (Figure 11), which is identical to one that Alfred’s grandson donated to the LBI that has been uploaded to the LBI Archives website. Margarita later sent me several other photographs taken in 1958 when Alfred and Rosie Bruck visited her family in Wolfratshausen, Germany in connection with the family tome Alfred was then researching and writing. (Figure 12) 

 

Figure 11. Undated photo of Alfred Bruck with his wife Rosie

 

 

Figure 12. Alfred and Rosie Bruck with Edgar Bruck, my first cousin one-time removed, in 1958 in Wolfratshausen, Germany

 

REFERENCES 

Bruck, A. (1946). The Sane Asylum [Unpublished manuscript]. Leo Baeck Institute.

The Sane Asylum. (Box 1, Folder 1) Alfred Bruck Collection, DM 325

Bruck, A. J. (1946). The Bruck Family. A Historical Sketch. [Unpublished manuscript]. Leo Baeck Institute. 

Bruck, A. J. (1951). The Bruck family: A historical sketch of a Jewish Family through a Thousand Years. [Unpublished manuscript]. Leo Baeck Institute. 

Cohn, Willy. No Justice in Germany: The Breslau Diaries, 1933-1941. Edited by Norbert Conrads, Stanford Studies in Jewish History and Culture, 2012.

POST 204: TRACING A LACE BEDSPREAD FROM A DISTANT RELATIVE’S 1914 MARRIAGE TROUSSEAU [REVISED]

POST CORRECTED AND UPDATED 6/19/2026

(PREVIOUS VERSION REMOVED)

Note: In this post I discuss how I helped a researcher at the upcoming Guimard Museum in Paris trace a lace bedspread manufactured by Paul Mezzara. He was the owner of the Hôtel Mezzara where this Art Nouveau museum, built by the architect Hector Guimard, will be housed. I also explain why I was approached for help. 

Related Posts: 

POST 173: HISTORIC REMAINS OF A FAMILY “CASTLE” IN SOUTHWESTERN POLAND 

POST 179: WHAT BARON CLEMENS VON ZEDLITZ, AL CAPONE, AND GUY DE MAUPASSANT HAVE IN COMMON, A RANDOM FACT LEARNED WHILE RESEARCHING THE CONNECTION OF THE BRUCK AND ROOSEVELT FAMILIES 

 

In what clearly falls into one of the most unusual requests received since my blog’s inception in 2017, I was recently contacted by Ms. Louise Fiorio (Figure 1), a researcher working for the future Guimard Museum in Paris. Specifically, Louise is studying the Parisian lace manufacturer Melville & Ziffer that was active from roughly 1900 to 1915.

 

Figure 1. Ms. Louise Fiorio, researcher at the future Guimard Museum in Paris

 

 

Briefly, a little background on the Guimard Museum and a few words on the lace manufacturer Melville & Ziffer and its founder, Paul Mezzara. 

The Musée Guimard will be a new museum dedicated to the Art Nouveau architect Hector Guimard. Scheduled to open in 2028, the museum will be permanently housed in the Hôtel Mezzara in the Auteuil neighborhood of Paris’s XVIe arrondissement. While much less well known than Hector Guimard’s “metro” entrances, the Hôtel Mezzara is one of the architect’s most interesting buildings. 

Paul Mezzara, for whom Hector Guimard built the Parisian mansion, was a painter born in France in 1866, who turned his enormous artistic skills to industrial art, founding a lace and embroidery company in Venice and then in Paris. This secured him a solid financial position. Having become a recognized figure in the field of decorative art, he was appointed vice-president of the “Societé des Artistes Décorateurs” in 1910, at the same time as Guimard. Paul Mezzara’s changing social status and his rapport with the architect made it possible and logical for him to commission his mansion that same year, 1910. 

As the “Le Cercle Gumard‘s” website notes: “. . .the hôtel Mezzara reflects the evolution of Guimard’s style, which had become more subdued and elegant, while remaining faithful to the principles he had established in 1899. The facades and interior spaces display a decorative refinement. . . by an architect who knew how to forge alliances with industry, while still being able to produce priceless pieces such as the dining room furniture. . .” 

Paul Mezzara founded his lace and embroidery manufacturing business, Melville & Ziffer, in 1891 after moving to Venice from Paris. It was a prominent, high-end fashion house that operated between the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with factories and workshops located in France and Italy. According to Bruno Montamat, author of a book about Paul Mezzara: “Through lace, intended for the home and for women’s clothing, Mezzara was engaged in the revival of the French decorative arts. And in keeping with the philosophy behind the Arts & Crafts movement, he made sure his expensive lace production financed the more affordable lace production, making it available to all.” 

The exact reasons for calling his lace firm Melville & Ziffer, instead of Mezzara, are not explicitly recorded. What is known is that Ziffer was the name of Paul Mezzara’s business partner in Venice.

After Mezzara returned to France in 1900, he had shops in Venice, San Rémo, Saint Moritz, Berlin, and Paris (Rue de Faubourg, Saint-Honoré), and sold lace through mail order and through haberdasheries.

Louise contacted me hoping I could help her locate a specific piece produced by Melville & Ziffer, a piece she described as follows: “a needle-lace bedcover, catalog reference no. 16152, measuring 2.3m x 2.53m, with 36 Venetian point medallions on an embroidered ground and a fine lily-of-the-valley lace border. The piece was personally exhibited by Paul Mezzara at the 5eme Salon de la Societé des Artistes Décorateurs in Paris in 1910 (published in the journal Art et Décoration, p. 123, displayed in a bedroom interior designed by Léon Jallot . . . (Figures 2-3)

 

Figure 2. Photo of the bedspread, which comes from a period magazine published by the Melville & Ziffer manufacturing company (Courtesy of: “Centre d’archives et de documentation Cercle Guimard”)

 

Figure 3. Black-and-white photo of the bed décor (Courtesy of: “Private collection”)

 

 

 

Readers will rightly wonder what prompted Louise to contact me asking for my help to track down the provenience of this lace bedspread. Based on the information available to her, this bedcover was acquired by one of my relatives by marriage, Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch (1891-1954), most likely as part of her trousseau ahead of her 1914 marriage to Gerhard Bruck. (1885-1961) (Figure 4) According to Louise, the piece “is a beautiful reflection on Hilda’s taste on the eve of her wedding.”

 

Figure 4. Wedding of Gerhard Bruck with Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch on the 21st of March 1914

 

 

To remind readers what I discussed in Post 179, in an unnecessarily cleverly titled post, Gerhard Bruck’s parents were Wilhelm Bruck (1849-1907) and Margarete von Koschembahr (1860-1946); Wilhelm Bruck was the youngest brother of my great-grandfather, Fedor Bruck (1834-1892). Following his marriage, under pressure from one of his von Koschembahr aunts, Gerhard adopted the baronial surname, initially in hyphenated form (Bruck-von Koschembahr), then upon his arrival in America completely dropping the Bruck cognomen. Thereinafter, this branch of the family has been known as von Koschembahrs. Gerhard Bruck (von Koschembahr) and Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch had 13 children, which is relevant to the challenge posed tracing the lace bedcover Louise inquired about. (Figure 5)

 

Figure 5. Gerhard Bruck von Koschembahr and his wife Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch with their 13 children

 

While the connection to both the von Koschembahr and von Zedlitz und Neukirch noble families was something previously known to me that greatly impressed my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck (1895-1982) and something he carefully noted on his ancestral trees (Figure 6), this barely registers for me. As a few early pictures of my uncle on horseback attest, he fancied himself an aristocrat. (Figures 7-8)

 

Figure 6. My uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck’s abbreviated family tree showing the family link to two aristocratic families, von Koschembahr and von Zedlitz

 

Figure 7. My uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck in 1926 atop his horse in Liegnitz [today: Legnica, Poland] dressed as an English gentleman
Figure 8. My uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck in 1926 atop his horse in Liegnitz [today; Legnica, Poland] dressed as Frederick the Great
Louise Fiorio surmised that the lace bedcover that was part of Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch’s wedding trousseau may have been among the family belongings the von Koschembahrs brought to New York aboard the SS Paris on October 1, 1938, and subsequently passed down to one of the thirteen children after Hilda’s death in 1954. 

Over the years various members of the von Koschembahr wing have contacted me through my blog to share or ask for information. One of those individuals is Christopher von Koschembahr (Figure 9) who I introduced to readers in Post 173 as one of Gerhard and Hilda’s grandchildren. Louise asked me to place her in touch with Christopher hoping he could inquire among his relatives about the possible provenance of the lace bedcover. I was happy to comply, realizing that given the size of the von Koschembahr clan, the chances of tracing the piece would be remote.

 

Figure 9. My third cousin, Christopher von Koschembahr, in July 2024 at Żarki Średnie, Poland with his family’s dilapidated “castle” in the background

 

I transmitted Louise’s request to Christopher shortly before Mother’s Day this year. In speaking with his mother on the occasion, Christopher mentioned Louise’s email. Astonishingly and as improbable as it seems, Christopher’s mother thought at one time she and her former husband, Dietrich E. F. Von Koschembahr (1929-1995), did have it. As Christopher announced: “well. . .at first I thought what are the odds our part of the tree would have it—given 13 brothers and sisters dividing up the household inheritance. . . but today as I wished my mom a Happy Mother’s Day—I just happen [sic] to mention this email—and to my surprise, she said she thinks we DID have it. . . what are the odds??” 

When Christopher’s parents divorced, the putative bedcover was taken by his father. Christopher’s mother later found a photograph of it being used at the time as a cover over a four-poster bed. (Figure 10) He forwarded the photo to Louise who was able to unequivocally confirm this is the lace piece that she has been seeking, which was a very moving experience for her: “A lot of emotion seeing this photo: this is indeed the lace we have been looking for, without any doubt!” This was the good news.

 

Figure 10. Photo of the lace bedspread manufactured by Melville & Ziffer that was part of Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch’s 1914 wedding trousseau that was being used as a bed cover over a four-poster bed at the time; it was destroyed in a fire in 1995 following Dietrich von Koschembahr’s divorce (Courtesy of: Christopher von Koschembahr)

 

The bad news is that the house where Dietrich von Koschembahr moved to upon his divorce was destroyed in a fire in 1995, an event that tragically killed Dietrich and likely resulted in the destruction of the lace bedcover. So, while the existence of the exquisite lace piece once owned by Hilda von Zedlitz und Neukirch was confirmed in the form of a photograph, its fate has also been determined.

 

REFERENCES 

Harmsen, O. (2020 December 29). Hôtel Mezzara, 60 Rue de la Fontaine, Paris. About Art Nouveau. Hôtel Mezzara, 60 Rue Jean de la Fontaine, Paris | About Art Nouveau

Le Cercle Guimard. The future Guimard Museum within the Hôtel Mezzara (https://www.lecercleguimard.fr/en/our-actions/guimard-foundation-hotel-mezzara/) 

Montamat, B. (2018). Paul Mezzara, 1866-1918 – un oublié de l’Art. Mare & Martin. 

“Paul Mezzara.” (2024, December 4). In Wikipedia. Paul Mezzara – Wikipedia

 “Point de Venise.” (2026, March 12). In Wikipedia. Point de Venise – Wikipedia

POST 203 (GUEST POST): EBERHARD BRUCK AS SKETCH ARTIST

 BY 

HELEN WINTER, NÉE RENSHAW

Editor’s note: Helen Margaret Winter, née Renshaw (b. 1948), is the author of this guest post about her grandfather, Eberhard Friedrich Ferdinand Bruck (1877-1960). Helen is my fourth cousin who, like many people providing ideas and inspiration for posts, found me through my blog. She lives in Wolverhampton, a city and metropolitan borough in the West Midlands, England. Her family emigrated to England before the Second World War. For this reason, many official papers, photographs, and vital documents related to her branch of our Bruck family survive, and over the years Helen has graciously shared many of these as she pores over them. Helen is very self-deprecating regarding her ability to meticulously translate and make sense of the handwritten German records. Helen has shared several particularly endearing sketches rendered by her grandfather. Given the sometimes-weighty topics I cover, we decided a guest post about these whimsical drawings would be an appropriate distraction. We hope readers will agree.

 

Related Posts: 

POST 99: THE ASTONISHING DISCOVERY OF SOME OF DR. WALTER WOLFGANG BRUCK’S PERSONAL EFFECTS 

POST 158: EMIL THOMAS, A FAMOUS THESPIAN & ILLEGITIMATE SON OF DR. JONAS BRUCK

 

I am grateful to Richard for having invited me to write this guest blog. I hope that it will amuse readers and provide a brief antidote to the gloomy news we are currently getting from all over the world. My mother, Margot Renshaw, née Bruck (1917-1985), was a refugee from Hitler’s Germany. Several years ago, I discovered a chested bureau from my parents’ home in a spare room at my sister’s house, containing a trove of archival material from the Bruck family. This included official documents, such as birth, marriage, and death certificates, wills, contracts and degree certificates, theater posters, letters, greeting cards and memoirs, a few even going as far back as the 18th century. I’m studying all these materials as diligently as my inadequate, though rapidly improving, German allows. 

The most exciting thing I found among the family archive was a treasure trove of sketches drawn by my grandfather, Eberhard Friedrich Bruck (1877-1960). I had, of course, known him as an elderly professor, whose books and articles dealt with Roman Law and the early Christian Church Fathers. Although I met him only four times during extended visits, he was very dear to me. He was a charming and kind person who didn’t mind me polishing his bald head and was happy to wear a cap I’d knitted for him in alternate triangles of white and scarlet dishcloth, with a tassel to match. 

It was a revelation to me that, as a boy, Eberhard seems to never have stopped drawing, and that his father, Felix Friedrich Bruck (1843-1911), had lovingly saved many of the resulting sketches. Eberhard, known to the family as “Hardy,” was born on the 15th of November 1877, in Breslau, Silesia [today: Wrocław, Poland]. He had a younger sister, Margot (1879-1949), and brother, Werner (1880-1945). (Figure 1)

 

Figure 1. Hardy, Margot, and Werner Bruck in theatrical costume, August 1890 (photo from Felix Bruck archive)

 

Felix Bruck (Figure 2) was a Professor of Criminal Law at the University of Breslau [today: University of Wrocław]. He was described by Eberhard, and his niece Bertha as a charming and witty man. Like many of the Bruck family, Felix had artistic and literary talents, even writing plays which were performed in theaters all over Germany. Felix’s wife, Anna Prausnitz, died aged only 27 of puerperal fever, on the 31st of August 1880, when Eberhard was less than three years old. Felix was devasted by the loss of his wife, whom he described as “the angelic woman who made me so happy,” and whom he loved to talk about in later life. 

 

Figure 2. Felix Friedrich Bruck with his grandson, Otto Prausnitz, in 1910 (photo courtesy of Tom Brook)

 

Nevertheless, my great-grandfather gave his three children a secure and happy childhood. Felix sat with his children for their evening prayers. He encouraged their talents. He was a fond father, collecting, and even cataloguing, the children’s school reports, writings, and drawings. In time, he became an equally fond grandfather, writing and illustrating a book of fairy stories for his grandchildren, his daughter Margot’s son and daughter, Otto and Anna Prausnitz. 

Felix took his children to the premiere of his play, “The Petrified Bird,” at the Lobe Theater in Breslau on the 21st of March 1888. (Figure 3) This was a comedy about the machinations of academics at a university, and paleontology, the petrified bird being a fossil. The play was a great success, and the children were elated with their father’s curtain call. When members of the audience took offense at their excited behavior and complained that such young children should not be in a theater, they indignantly and proudly retorted, “we are the author’s children!”

 

Figure 3. Second edition of “The Petrified Bird” including title page and date of the first performance

 

My grandfather and his siblings were all artistically talented. Margot wrote poems, and Hardy plays, which they performed for a family audience. 

Felix vowed never to remarry so as not to inflict a stepmother on his children. He employed a succession of housekeepers, but none of them lasted, because, according to my grandfather, they all wanted to marry his father. Then, in 1889, a Bertha Werner arrived to take up the post. My grandfather asked her if she was superstitious, and when she asked “Why?,” he explained, “You are our thirteenth Fraülein.” Undeterred, she stayed and became a beloved member of the family. 

Like many of the Bruck family, my grandfather preferred artistic pursuits to boring everyday tasks. By his own account, he was lazy at school and found his teachers very uninspiring. Under the Prussian system of education, the school year was divided into two semesters, with the curriculum from the first semester being repeated in the second; any pupil whose performance was satisfactory could move up a class and avoid the repetition. My grandfather says that he had to stay behind no less than five times during his schooling. However, he seems to have spared no effort when it came to personal writings and drawings. Daily life, history, literature, and mythology all provided subjects. 

Aged 10, Hardy copied and illustrated poems written by his sister, Margot, into a manuscript book. (Figure 4) The soldiers in historical costumes are typical of those who appear in his drawings or carousing scenes. Hardy loved equines and included them in his sketches whenever possible. They are full of cavalry battle scenes, hunting parties, medieval jousts, processions, contemporary carriages, and so on. One sketch shows his siblings as donkeys (Figure 5), who clearly had just had a disagreement, and is captioned “Margot and Werner photographed from life.”

 

Figure 4. Front cover of a book of Margot’s poems illustrated by Eberhard Bruck, 1888

 

 

Figure 5. Sketch of donkeys captioned “Margot and Werner,” 27th March 1891

 

In the panoramic sketch of a procession (Figures 6a-g), the Bedouin chief, mounted on an elephant, is followed by his personal steed, his harem, other horses, and prisoners being whipped by guards. Although the sketch is only four inches high, the tiny characters are full of life and activity.

 

Figure 6a. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 1)

 

Figure 6b. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 2)

 

Figure 6c. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 3)

 

Figure 6d. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 4)

 

Figure 6e. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 5)

 

Figure 6f. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 6)

 

Figure 6g. Procession of a Bedouin Prince, October 1890 (part 7)

 

Led by a man in Bavarian costume and his depressed looking dog (Figure 7), the riders look uncomfortable on their mules.

Figure 7. An Expedition, 22nd February 1891

Monks in Hardy’s drawings (Figure 8) are always fat and gluttonous. Here they are enjoying the best vintages.

 

Figure 8. Monks drinking, 7th/8th April 1891

 

Typical of classical illustrations, often Hardy’s sketches (Figure 9) feature female nudes; here an amorous faun and nymph are overheard by an indignant old river god.

 

Figure 9. The Eavesdropper, 3rd April 1891

 

The Bruck archive includes annual posters Eberhard sketched on his father’s birthday on the 19th of May between 1891 and 1898. These are often mock heroic, making very gentle fun of his father’s habits and enthusiasms. For his father’s fiftieth birthday in 1893 (Figure 10), Eberhard has drawn him mounted on Pegasus, the steed of inspiration, while personifications of Poetry and Justice crown him with laurel wreaths, in honor of his dual careers as a playwright and lawyer, while Plenty shakes her cornucopia over him. Hardy and Margot provide a musical accompaniment on the cello and violin, while Werner turns a handstand, supervised by Bertha the housekeeper.

 

Figure 10. Birthday poster for Felix, Eberhard’s father, 1893

 

Other family members attend the festivities, all named by Hardy, including his first cousin, Bertha Bruck, later Jacobson, who stands third from the left in a blue dress holding flowers. Bertha was the daughter of Adalbert Bruck, brother of Felix and Julius Bruck, a somewhat austere county court judge. She wrote a long memoir of her life, up to 1913, which I’m translating, in which she speaks fondly of her Bruck uncles Felix and Julius. She remembered them as kindly men who enjoyed life, unlike her own father, who, she said, cared nothing for wine, women, and song, only for books. 

Julius Bruck and his wife Bertha, née Vogelsdorf, are drawing up in a cab and their son, Walther Wolfgang Bruck, is taking photographs. Walther eventually became dentist to Kaiser Wilhelm II’s family and was also head of photography at Breslau University [today: University of Wrocław]. It is a strange coincidence that Eberhard, Bertha, and Walther were all to write memoirs. 

Looking at this joyful scene, it is poignant to think that, of the family members who survived to the 1930s, four of the young people would emigrate to escape persecution (Eberhard, Werner, and Bertha to the United States and Margot to the Isle of Wight in England) while Walther is believed to have committed suicide to protect his wife and half-Jewish daughter [Bruck Family Blog, Post 99], and three older family members, Gotthold, Clara, and Olga Prausnitz, would be deported by the Nazis to extermination camps. 

Hardy’s 1894 birthday poster (Figure 11) for his father illustrates Felix’s obsession with criminal law reform. A humane man, he campaigned against the death penalty and even against prison, which he thought did no good. His solution was deportation to the colonies. He wrote many books and magazine articles on the subject. The poster shows a fanciful scene of Felix arriving at a convict colony in an open carriage, welcomed by the grateful colonists with a banner bearing “Heartfelt Congratulations,” while his family (Hardy, Margot, Werner, and Fraülein Werner) watch from a balcony. His book, “Down with Prison!,” is shown behind the archway, and, above the main scene, Felix’s chief intellectual opponent, the bearded, elderly Carl Krohne (1836-1913), who was in fact a clergyman and prison reformer, perches disconsolately on the roof of an old style, castellated prison, which is collapsing.

 

Figure 11. Birthday poster for Felix Bruck, 1894

 

In Eberhard’s poster in honor of his father’s birthday in 1895, he glorifies Felix’s love of good wine and good company. (Figures 12a-e) His favorite leisure haunt (also depicted on the poster for 1891) was Green’s Wine Bar, Albrechtstraße 3 in Breslau. It seems possible that the proprietor, R. Green, could have been English. The poster shows Felix coming out of the bar, where a social scene is taking place, to meet Mr. Green. On the right, Hardy (with a bouquet), Margot, and Werner lead a crowd congratulating Felix on his birthday, including characters from some of his plays, such as Themis, the Greek goddess of divine justice, blindfolded, with scales and sword, supporting Regnault, an elderly artist and the victim of a miscarriage of justice, from the play “Themis,” which is an attack on capital punishment. Above them, Pegasus swoops down to greet the playwright, ridden by the Petrified Bird, from the play of the same title, now restored to life.

 

Figure 12a. Birthday poster for Felix Bruck, 1895 (overall)

 

Figure 12b. Birthday poster for Felix Bruck, 1895 (part 1)

 

Figure 12c. Birthday poster for Felix Bruck, 1895 (part 2)

 

Figure 12d. Birthday poster for Felix Bruck, 1895 (part 3)

 

Figure 12e. Birthday poster for Felix Bruck, 1895 (part 4)

 

Unfortunately, Felix suffered from poor health, including diabetes and gout. Hardy suggests that wine is the cure. Spouting bottles of red and white wine, mounted on wheels like cannon, and surrounded by happy cherubs, put to flight the personifications of age and infirmity. To the left are named characters, probably also from Felix’s plays, who appear to be doctors who are retreating, including one carrying a bottle marked “death.” 

In 1903, when his sister Margot married her second cousin, Carl Prausnitz, Hardy gave her a manuscript book, a long poem giving the history of their courtship, how they had fallen in love, how Carl had proposed, how he had to chaperone them on long hikes, and how he hoped his sister’s sweetness, which had made their childhood home so happy, would ensure them a happy future. On their wedding day when Eberhard did not come down for breakfast, Margot looked for him and found him asleep with his head on his desk. She remembered gently chiding him, “How can you be asleep on my wedding morning?,” whereupon he presented her with the book. (Figures 13-16)

 

Figure 13. Margot Bruck and Carl Prausnitz’s engagement

 

Figure 14. Hardy as chaperone

 

Figure 15. Carl inoculating a rabbit

 

Figure 16. Photograph of Hardy, Margot, and Carl Prausnitz in about 1900 (photo courtesy of Alison Metcalfe)

 

 

Carl Prausnitz was bilingual as his mother was English. He became an eminent doctor in Germany who researched allergy treatment. During the Third Reich, Carl and Margot moved to the Isle of Wight, where he had family, and settled down as a country doctor. I’m very grateful to my second cousin, Alison Metcalfe, their granddaughter, for lending and allowing me to copy the manuscript book given to her grandparents by Eberhard. 

The collection of my grandfather’s drawings is the work of a carefree student. Unfortunately, after he left home to pursue a legal career, and eventually an academic career, only a very few drawings by him survive. However, it’s doubtful he could altogether have abandoned his sketching. 

Felix Bruck died in 1911. Two years later, Eberhard, now a professor of law in Geneva, met the love of his life, Irmgard Jentzch (1894-1955), from Halle in Saxony. This happened in Mittenwald in the Bavarian Alps where he was on a walking holiday with his faithful companion, Seppel, a dachshund. My grandmother had gone there to pursue her hobby of mountain climbing. Having supper in a local inn, he sat at the table next to her and her mother. She was wearing a simple dirndl and he saw her as “the embodiment of health and strength, and beautiful like her mother.” He encouraged Seppel to approach the next table and, when she smiled and petted the dog, he decided he must get to know her. (Figure 17) He succeeded in this, overcoming the resistance of Irmgard’s mother, who, in the manner of the time, rebuffed the attempts of this unknown man in short breeches and a Tyrolean hat to make conversation. All was well, as it turned out that one of my grandfather’s colleagues came from Halle and was friendly with Irmgard’s family. Within three days, they were engaged and married in April 1914. Despite an age difference of seventeen years, they were soulmates.

 

Figure 17. Eberhard Bruck with his dachshund, Seppel, in Mittenwald, in 1913

 

 

My grandfather’s lack of practical skills was a byword in the family, but Irmgard more than made up for this. She was an expert at household renovation, gardening and tailoring, always appearing in elegant suits she had sewn for herself, and making lovely clothes for the family. She even found time to publish articles on nature and gardening. 

As it was Seppel who had introduced the couple (Figure 18), it was only right that he featured on the invitations to the wedding reception. (Figure 19) These are, of course, engraved, but it seems likely they could be based on a design by my grandfather, showing the couple in their respective settings, Eberhard on his way to college, accompanied by his faithful dog and Irmgard climbing the mountain peaks.

 

Figure 18. Irmgard bathing Seppel, 1915

 

Figure 19. Invitation to the wedding reception of Irmgard and Eberhard Bruck, 2 April 1913

 

 

Seppel features again in a sketch of the couple out walking on the 11th of November 1914 which is, unfortunately, the last of my grandfather’s sketches that I have been able to find. Entitled “The Brucks Sulking,” the couple have had a tiff. Eberhard is striding ahead, arms folded behind him, while Irmgard lags and the dog, looking slightly uncomfortable, walks between them. (Figure 20)

 

Figure 20. The Brucks sulking, 11th November 1914

 

Shortly after their marriage, everything changed in Germany. During the First World War, my grandfather was conscripted as a military judge. He did not think much of this, simply writing that he “wore the uniform, with the rank of captain, and learned to give and receive salutes.” 

My mother Margot was born during the war, on 26th of August 1917, followed by the birth of her brother Ferdinand, on the 24th of January 1921. My uncle inherited a talent for sketching and became an architect in the States under the name of F. Friedrich Bruck. 

In the family, my grandfather acquired a new nickname, “Jupi,” from his children and my sister and me. It was short for “Jupiter,” the ruler and arbiter of the household. 

After the First World War, my grandfather moved from Breslau to Frankfurt, and finally to Bonn, researching historical jurisprudence. As a person of Jewish descent, although his parents had converted to Protestant Christianity, he was targeted in “Der Stürmer” and was compulsorily retired by the Nazis in 1935. In 1938, my grandparents emigrated to Holland, and thence to the United States. 

Wisely, my grandfather sent his children to school in Geneva, York, and Bangor (Wales) so they could perfect their French and English. Ferdinand went to Harvard at the age of 16 while my mother ended up managing a printing works in Wales during the military service of the owner, and marrying my father, Peter Renshaw, in 1942. 

My grandparents were only allowed to take 10 Marks each when they left Germany, the equivalent today of approximately $95.00, and a suitcase. The disruption caused by the Second World War was brought home to me when I found letters between my mother and her maternal aunt, Ilse Freytag, who had remained in Germany with her husband, looking after my great grandmother. In 1946, they were telling each other about their lives for the last six years, as they’d been unable to communicate during the war. 

My grandfather was appointed as a Research Associate in Law at Harvard, where he received a stipend for living scholars from the Emergency Committee in Aid of Displaced Foreign Scholars. He continued his research and voluntarily gave lectures on Early Christian Church Fathers which were so popular they had to be moved to a larger hall to accommodate the many students wanting to attend. He had a flair for the theatrical following in the steps of his uncle, the noted actor Emil Thomas [see Bruck Family Blog, Post 158]. He told a story well, and was, indeed, completely unselfconscious. When he visited us in suburban England, he would walk up the street practicing his vocal exercises, emitting a deep, booming “How” at regular intervals; when my mother told a neighbor that he had to go to the hospital, the neighbor enquired sympathetically, “It’s his head, isn’t it?” 

My grandparents made a good life for themselves in America, where they were rich in friends, if not money. My grandfather had his books, my grandmother grew tomatoes, morning glory, and her favorite pansies in their yard, their son was nearby, and they delighted in their cats, who kept having kittens (even the one who was supposed to be male). 

Somehow, probably with the help of former neighbors in Bonn, they managed to get the family papers and other heirlooms to their apartment in Cambridge, Massachusetts. They wrote to my mother every week and from the letters my grandfather’s character emerges. When you met him, he was a kind, diplomatic gentleman who would always find something or someone to praise, though he had a keen sense of ridiculousness, as is shown in his sketches. His letters show a deeper side. He could be keenly critical, but he accepted the world as it was, and his outlook was stoic. When Irmgard, sadly, died of a stroke in 1955, he was supported by his friends and neighbors, and his son and daughter-in-law. He continued to be active in academic circles in Europe and the United States and died in Germany in 1960, appropriately I feel, on the Island of Reichenau, famous as a center of learning in the Middle Ages. Although he was 82, his death from a heart attack was unexpected and a devastating shock to his friends and family.

 

REFERENCES 

Bruck Family Genealogical Blog.

https://bruckfamilyblog.com 

Bruck, Eberhard Friedrich. (1958). Aus der Geschichte der Familie Bruck [Unpublished manuscript]. 

Bruck, Walther Wolfgang. Untitled [Unpublished manuscript]. 

Gedenkbuch : Opfer Der Verfolgung Der Juden Unter Dem Nationalsozialistischen Gewaltherrschaft In Deutschland, 1933-1945

https://www.ushmm.org/online/hsv/source_view.php?SourceId=30920

Jacobson, Bertha Bruck. (1935/1936). Jugenderinnerungen einer Alten Frau [Unpublished manuscript]. 

Records of the Emergency Committee for Displaced Foreign Scholars, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming.

https://archives.nypl.org

 

POST 202: UNIQUE WARTIME PHOTOGRAPH OF MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN FROM SZIGETVÁR, HUNGARY

Note: A reader from New Zealand recently sent me a photo likely taken Between January and March 1944 on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy in Szigetvár, Hungary where British Commonwealth prisoners of war who’d escaped from German stalags were housed before Germany invaded Hungary on March 19, 1944. The photo includes Heinz Loewenstein, my father’s first cousin, along with other POWs whose memoirs and wartime escapades I’ve discussed in multiple posts written about Heinz. In this post I review the historical events that led to the capturing of this astonishing moment. I feel truly privileged to have obtained a copy of it, particularly since I met Heinz as a child and know he was one of my father’s closest relatives. 

Related Posts: 

POST 137: MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN: DISCOVERING HIS WHEREABOUTS DURING WORLD WAR II 

POST 137, POSTSCRIPT-MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN, DISCOVERING HIS WHEREABOUTS DURING WWII—ADDITIONAL FINDINGS 

POST 163: THE WARTIME ESCAPADES OF HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN, FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S BROTHER 

POST 163, POSTSCRIPT: THE WARTIME ESCAPADES OF HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN, FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S BROTHER: FURTHER FINDINGS 

POST 181: JOE POWELL, ESCAPEE FROM A GERMAN STALAG WITH MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN 

POST 194: BRINGING TOGETHER FORENSIC GENEALOGY & ARCHAEOLOGY TO THE STUDY OF MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN’S ESCAPE FROM A GERMAN STALAG 

 

I derive pleasure from my blog on multiple levels. Beyond learning about historical events and the geopolitical milieu in which the subjects of my posts lived, I often discover connections between events, people, and places, and occasionally facilitate this among followers of my blog. Readers occasionally send me rare photographs of family members or images of well-known or notorious individuals. The current post is about one such photograph sent to me of my father’s first cousin by Paul London, a gentleman from New Zealand. 

Paul initially reached out to me through my blog in January 2025. He introduced himself as the biographer of the Kiwi soldier Roy Natusch, which immediately caught my attention as I had written about Roy in Post 163 (more on this below) and because he knew and was detained with my father’s first cousin Heinz Löwenstein in Hungary. When Paul initially contacted me, he wrote: 

“While ‘surfing’ the internet the other night, by happenchance I came across your family history website recording details on the lives of Rudolf Loewenstein and his wife Hedwig (née Bruck).   My interest in the Loewenstein family lies with the wartime activities of their son Heinz Kurt (aka as Henry) who in 1944 as an escaped PoW was living on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy at Szigetvár in southern Hungary with a group of allied evaders under the command of a New Zealand soldier, my late mentor Roy Natusch, who, as you have correctly recorded was himself an escaped PoW and over the course of four years made ten escape attempts before finally making that ‘home run’. During his time in Hungary Roy not only passes himself off as Henry Loewenstein but also masquerades as a recently escaped Dutch officer which the post-war UK tabloids identify Roy as “the Double Dutchman”. I see you too have referred to his book that bears that same name and was released in 1977 and records their movements. For the record, over the past 80 years Roy’s activities have inspired 12 authors to record his clandestine activities in 15 books, with the last being published some 3 years ago in ‘The Flight’ by Tyler Bridges, a former American journalist now university lecturer in New Orleans. For over 20 years I was Roy’s biographer and since his death some 16 years ago I am now the custodian of his archive which I’m currently reviewing and adding to as new and indeed exciting evidence emerges through the release of documents via the likes of those two genealogical sites of Ancestry.com and Findmypast, and lately the British National Archives at Kew Gardens, a repository I use to visit whenever in the UK.” 

Reminding readers about Heinz. 

Heinz Löwenstein and his older brother Fédor Löwenstein (Figure 1) have been the subject of numerous posts. Fédor Löwenstein was an accomplished abstract artist whose works were deemed by the Nazis to be degenerate art resulting in many of his works being destroyed. I’ve detailed in recent posts how I was able to retrieve three of his surviving works in September 2025, from the French Minister of Culture after a 12-year legal tussle.

 

Figure 1. Fédor Löwenstein (left) with his younger brother Heinz

 

For his part, Fédor’s younger brother, Heinz Löwenstein, who I met in Nice, France as a child, was captured by the Wehrmacht during the Battle of Greece in 1941 and incarcerated in various German stalags from which he escaped multiple times. His longest stretch of freedom occurred following his escape from Stalag VIIIB in Poland in September or October of 1943 when he successfully made his way to Hungary. Following his flight there, Heinz was eventually scooped up by Hungarian police and briefly taken to Komárom, Hungary, near the then-Czechoslovakian border. He was not turned back over to the Nazis because Hungary had not yet declared war on Britain. Instead, from Komárom, Heinz was moved to Camp Siklós, then relocated to the remarkably comfortable estate of Count Mihály Andrássy at Szigetvár in southern Hungary. 

In an article titled “The Messenger of Hope,” written by Roy Natusch and edited by Paul first published in October 1993 in the “New Zealand Returned Servicemen’s Association Review,” Roy described the circumstances of internment at Szigetvár: “By the end of 1943, Reg [EDITOR’S NOTE: REGINALD PHEASE, ANOTHER INTERNEE] was on the estate of Count Michael Andrassy in Szigetvár, Hungary, where I had been put in charge of a group of British soldiers who were put under loose government supervision as ‘free internees’—Hungary had not yet declared war on Britain.” 

In Post 163 Postscript, I described the route Heinz might have followed using the same path that South African Lt. Colonel Charles Telfer Howie who had escaped from the same stalag several weeks earlier had taken. Howie would eventually make his way to Budapest and figure prominently in an ultimately unsuccessful effort to sway the Hungarians to support the Allies. The Nazis who had spies everywhere in Hungary got wind of this and invaded the country on the 19th of March 1944 to stymie Allied plans. Heinz and the other internees housed in Szigetvár were immediately recaptured. An interesting footnote about my father’s first cousin. In Stalag VIIIB and at Szigetvár, he was known as Heinz Löwenstein, surname spelled either “Henry Lowenstein” or “Henry Loewenstein,” but following his recapture in Hungary after the Nazis invaded in March 1944, he miraculously transformed into “Henry Goff” with a new prisoner number. Likely this metamorphosis slipped unnoticed through the “fog of war.” 

In Post 163, using information from a book entitled “The Double Dutchman: A story of wartime escape and intrigue” by Francis Jones, I described some of Roy Natusch’s escapades because they prominently featured Heinz. I quote at length what I previously wrote: 

“The story is primarily about a New Zealand soldier, captured like Heinz Löwenstein during the Battle of Greece in April 1941, by the name of Roy Natusch. (Figure 2) He was interned in Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg, and, like Heinz, escaped from a work camp with two other internees, Lance-Bombardier David ‘Dai’ Tom Davies and Joe Walker.  The work camp from which they fled was located not far from the Hungarian border in a place called Gaas, Austria. The author does not specify the exact date of their get away, but I place it in the Fall or Winter of 1943. Following their nighttime escape, the three internees tried to get as far into Hungary as possible; they were trying to avoid being recaptured by the German-influenced Hungarian border squads who would have handed them back to the Germans.

 

Figure 2. New Zealand soldier Roy Natusch in October 1944, in Italy three days after his repatriation by the Allies following his escape; while only a Corporal, he passed himself off as a Captain and grew a mustache to add a measure of gravitas (photo courtesy of Paul London)

 

 

While Roy Natusch was only a Corporal, with the agreement of his two companions, he passed himself off as a Captain knowing that if the three were captured by the Hungarians an officer would be better treated. Eventually, the three escapees were in fact arrested by Hungarian police or military, and temporarily interned in Komárom, Hungary, near the then-Czechoslovakian border. Had they not been captured by the Hungarians, Roy and his traveling companions had always intended to do a dogleg through Hungary into then-Yugoslavia (i.e., head east into Hungary, then turn southwards towards Yugoslavia), linking up with Tito’s Partisans and being repatriated by the Allies in Italy. This was not to be their fate, at least not immediately. 

As an officer, or at least claiming to be one, Roy quickly came to the attention of the only other escaped Allied officer in Hungary, a real officer, the South African Lieutenant Colonel Charles Telfer Howie hiding in Budapest (i.e., Komárom and Budapest are only about 60 miles apart). Along with a Private by the name of Tom Sanders, Howie had escaped from Stalag VIIIB in Lamsdorf [today: Łambinowice, Poland]. 

While at Komárom, Roy Natusch was visited by a Colonel Utassy from the Hungarian War Office along with a Foreign Service Officer, presumably to be vetted for possible involvement in a plot to change the course of the war. He eventually made his way to Budapest where he met other members of the Hungarian resistance and was introduced to Lt. Colonel Howie. While Howie could have left Hungary and rejoined the Allies, he consciously decided to remain there. Clandestinely, he was working with the various opposition factions in Hungary to switch them from the Axis to the Allied side. This was a particularly precarious undertaking since Budapest and more generally Hungary had Nazi spies everywhere. Moreover, it was an open secret that as soon as the Soviets got anywhere near Hungary, a day which was quickly approaching, the German troops would invade the country and quickly seize Budapest. 

At the time Natusch met with Lt. Colonel Howie, Germany had not yet invaded Hungary, however. Howie dispatched Natusch to the detention camp in Szigetvár at Count Andrássy’s castle estate with specific orders that the detained British POWs there not attempt to escape to Yugoslavia, or they would be court-marshalled after the war. Sargeant Major Norman McLean was ostensibly in charge of the soldiers. As noted above, Heinz Löwenstein was among the sixteen or so British Commonwealth soldiers confined there and was considered the ‘intellectual of the camp’; here is where Roy Natusch first encountered Heinz. With Heinz’s nod of approval, the soldiers put off their escape attempt, a fateful decision, as it turned out. By the time Natusch and Howie made their request, Heinz, the point of contact because of his fluency in multiple languages, had already contacted a local Hungarian who would have facilitated their escape by accompanying them to the Partisans in Yugoslavia. The distance from Szigetvár to the Yugoslav border was less than 15 miles, although the march to reach Partisan lines once inside Yugoslavia was long and dangerous because the Wehrmacht troops were active in the northern part of the country. 

The British representatives who were supposed to negotiate with the Hungarian opposition were to be dropped by parachute on the plains near Szigetvár, and the British soldiers were expected to gather the inexperienced parachutists and bring them to Budapest. Howie had assured the British soldiers that in the event of a sudden German invasion, he would notify them by phone and/or send one of his men to warn them so they could quickly flee to Yugoslavia to join the Partisans. 

As it turned out, Germany’s invasion of Hungary took place on the 19th of March 1944, and came from three directions, Yugoslavia, Romania, and Germany. As expected, the Wehrmacht immediately headed for Budapest and the internment camp at Szigetvár where they recaptured all the British soldiers, including Natusch and Löwenstein. The warning the soldiers had been awaiting from Lt. Colonel Howie never arrived because the phone lines were immediately cut throughout the country upon Germany’s invasion, and the man Howie sent to warn the soldiers instead fled to Romania. 

Because of Natusch’s knowledge of ‘The Mission’ (i.e., the Allies plan to try and peel off Hungary from the Axis alliance) and the players involved, he was a wanted man. Under torture, Natusch could have divulged the names of no fewer than eleven co-conspirators. For this reason, it was imperative he avoid being captured by the Gestapo. Fortunately, he managed to escape at Szigetvár despite being guarded by seven Wehrmacht soldiers. Following his getaway and subsequent travails, he eventually made his way back to Budapest in the company of another British escapee, and reestablished contact with Lt. Colonel Howie who was in hiding. In Budapest, through contacts he had there, he connected with some Dutch soldiers, including a Lieutenant Eddie van Hootegem. The latter would wind up giving him his identity card, so for a period this was his alias. However, when he and two other Dutch officers (Lieutenant Frank Brackel & Lieutenant Joob Sengor) were arrested in Budapest and taken to Buda prison, together they crafted an elaborate explanation for why the purported Dutch soldier “Eddie” was unable to speak Dutch. 

Suspicious of his explanation, the Germans transferred Roy Natusch, now Eddie van Hootegem, along with a contingent of almost a hundred Hungarians, Poles, French, and Jews, and non-descripts, by train from Buda prison. The Wehrmacht intended to take Roy/Eddie to an Oflag, a prisoner of war camp for officers established by the Germans during WWII, in Neubrandenburg, about 120 miles north of Berlin. This presented a major problem for Roy since they would ultimately have discovered he was Natusch, not van Hootegem. 

On their way to Neubrandenburg, however, the prisoners were unloaded in Stalag XVIIA [Kaisersteinbruch, Austria]. Roy once again had the good fortune to run into Heinz Löwenstein there, who had by now assumed his own alias, the previously mentioned “Henry Goff.” As a side note, Francis Jones, author of “The Double Dutchman,” incorrectly claims Heinz’s alias was ‘Henry Lewis.’ Regardless, Roy had learned from his time in Szigetvár that Heinz was a master forger, so he asked him to prepare a set of papers so that he could pass as an Italian. 

Below is how Francis Jones describes the episode and the results: 

Henry Lowenstein appeared a few hours later and got past the guards without difficulty. “Here you are, sir,” he said. “It’s finished.” He glanced around nervously. “Best hide it. I’m not sure about these guards” Natusch put the slim package he’d been given into his breast pocket. The Palestinian was as jumpy as a cat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything for your friends [EDITOR’S NOTE: THE AFOREMENTIONED BRACKEL & SENGOR]” he went on, “but there was only enough material for you.” Pride of craftsmanship calmed some of Henry’s agitation. “You’ll find a passport there, properly stamped,” he announced, “a travel warrant, also stamped, and a couple of letters. You’re Mario Brioni, sir. That’s if you want to be Italian. I’d better go now, sir. Good luck.” He shook hands with Natusch, gave Frank and Joob a half-bow, and left. 

The New Zealander passed the little folder to his two friends without a word and stayed on the alert whilst they examined him it. The verdict came quickly. “It’s perfect,” Frank said slowly. His eyes were wide with admiration. “This is first-class work.” Joob Sengor, taking longer over his examination, agreed, and with that, Natusch was really satisfied. Joob was a protégé of the great Bentinck [EDITOR’S NOTE: A DUTCH FORGER], and a connoisseur of forgery. He put the documents back into his pocket and breathed thanks once again to the ever-helpful Henry Lowenstein.’ 

What the Germans had failed to do in Budapest, namely check his photo and fingerprint files in Berlin, they would certainly have done in the Oflag in Neubrandenburg; obviously, they would quickly have learned his real identity and turned him over to the Gestapo for interrogation. This meant that Natusch couldn’t risk facing new interrogators and had planned to jump off the train en route to the Oflag and change his identity from Eddie van Hootegem to Mario Brioni, who happened to be a fictitious Italian traveling legitimately. Incidentally, Roy had opted for an Italian surname because he spoke passable Italian and thought he could fool most Germans. 

Roy’s intention after he jumped from the train was to travel in the opposite direction along the same line from Stettin [today: Szczecin, Poland] towards Hegyeshalom, near the Austrian-Hungarian border. Stettin lay 30 miles east of Neubrandenburg, which made the revised journey feasible. Roy was concerned that if his luck failed some attentive German might check and discover there was no such person as Mario Brioni. If this happened, he knew that he could no longer be Eddie van Hootegem, a Dutchman who didn’t speak Dutch, and certainly not be himself. Heinz Löwenstein again came to his rescue and offered him his own identity since he now went by Henry Goff. Roy jumped at the offer, so Löwenstein gave him his identity tag. This was the last interaction between Heinz and Roy documented by Francis Jones. 

As fate would have it, when Roy jumped off the train at the stop before Breslau [today: Wrocław, Poland], he was seriously hurt. Knowing he would be recaptured because of his injuries he ditched the identifications for both Mario Brioni and Heinz Löwenstein. He was arrested at the train station near Breslau by one of the three guards escorting him to the Dutch Oflag in Neubrandenburg. On the 2nd of August 1944 two guards from there came to collect Roy. Because his Hungarian civil papers were in order, upon his arrival in the Oflag he continued to pass himself off as Eddie van Hootegem. However, eventually he gave up the ghost and admitted to his interrogators that he was Roy Natusch, an escapee from Stalag XVIIIA in Wolfsberg. Fortunately, the Germans didn’t immediately make the connection that he was wanted by the Gestapo; consequently, they sent him back to Stalag XVIIIA where he’d originally escaped from years before. Knowing he was still in danger, he quickly had himself assigned to a work party in a place called Radkersburg near the Yugoslavian border. With help from the Hungarian resistance, he escaped across the border and after a dangerous journey through German lines reached the Partisans. From there he was eventually repatriated in Italy.” 

 According to Paul, Roy spoke admiringly of Heinz: 

“Roy talked very highly of him and was amazed at his skills to forge documents most accurately and prior to his death Roy often wondered what became of Henry and thought he may have settled in Palestine after the war.  We did go ‘looking’, but sadly with little success and now reading your various blogs confirms the reason why.” 

As previously noted, I’ve reviewed what I previously wrote not only because Heinz Löwenstein escaped several times on his own, but he also figured prominently in the escape of other prisoners-of-war. 

As it specifically relates to Heinz’s “loose government supervision” in Hungary on the estate of Count Andrássy, Paul recently came into possession of what I can only characterize as an exceptionally rare photograph of some of the internees detained there, including Heinz. (Figure 3a-b)

 

Figure 3a. Copy of original photo taken on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy in Szigetvár, Hungary between January and March 1944, including Heinz Löwenstein

 

 

Figure 3b. AI-enhanced black-and-white copy of the original photo taken on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy in Szigetvár, Hungary

 

Paul recently completed a world cruise where he had several opportunities to meet up with several fellow Second World War researchers he’s been associated with over the past 35 years. One Kiwi expat now living in Atlanta, Georgia flew down to Miami to meet Paul when his cruise ship berthed there and subsequently put him in touch with the son (Buster Beckett) of another internee whose father was also housed on Count Andrassy’s estate in Szigetvár at the same time as Heinz. Buster’s father was Private Doug “Joe” Beckett. Dai Davies, mentioned above as one of POWs who escaped from Stalag XVIIIA (Wolfsberg) with Roy Natusch and Joe Walker, gave Joe Beckett the attached group photo taken on Count Andrássy’s estate of the “guests” detained there. Dai Davies identified as many of the detainees as he could. (Figure 4)

 

Figure 4. Dai Davies’ identification of 11 of the 18 individuals photographed on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy in Szigetvár, Hungary; Count Andrássy may be the gentleman in the suit in the center of the group

 

 

Let me review what I discussed in Post 137. The evidence that Heinz Löwenstein escaped from Stalag VIIIB in Poland and successfully reached Hungary comes from War Office Record WO 224/95. This document was sent to me by my English friend, Brian Cooper, who specializes in the study of British Commonwealth Second World War POWs. It places Heinz at Szigetvár on the estate of Count Andrássy no later than November 8, 1943. Quoting what I previously wrote: 

“Record WO 224/95 is a Visit Report by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) written on the 16th of November detailing prison conditions at the Camp Siklós Hungarian detention center inspected on the 8th of November 1943. While referred to as Camp Siklós the holding facility had in fact been moved from Siklós to Szigetvár on the 12th of August 1943 due to the poor conditions prevailing at Siklós. Attached to this report is a list of 16 army personnel (Figure 5), presumably, all POW escapees, including ‘Henry Lowenstein.’ It’s unclear at what point Heinz was arrested in Hungary but no later than the 8th of November he was in Hungarian hands. Szigetvár, incidentally, was the castle estate of Count Mihály Andrássy, and incarceration conditions there were excellent.

 

 

Figure 5. Page 4 of report written by the International Committee of the Red Cross on November 16, based on a November 8, 1943 visit 1943 to Camp Siklós (Szigetvár), War Office record WO 224/95, listing the 16 British Commonwealth POWs housed at Count Andrássy’s estate

 

The ICRC visit to Camp Siklós (Szigetvár) was conducted in its capacity as a Protecting Power which was formalized in the Geneva Convention of 1929. Protecting powers were allowed to inspect prisoners of war camps, interview prisoners in private, communicate freely with prisoners, and supply books for the prison library. The term ‘Protecting Power’ is simply defined. It is a state which has accepted the responsibility of protecting the interests of another state in the territory of a third, with which, for some reason, such as war, the second state does not maintain diplomatic relations.” 

The photograph given by Dai Davies to Joe Beckett, both pictured, includes eighteen people, eleven of whom are identified. (see Figure 4) I suspect, though have no way to confirm this, the unidentified gentleman in the center of the photo nattily dressed in a suit was Count Mihály Andrássy. Only five of the people whose names appear on the ICRC list are identified in the picture, namely, Corporal Joe Crolla, Private John Bisset, Private Henry Loewenstein, Private Reginald Mathews, and Private John McAteer. It’s probable that some of the unnamed individuals correspond to other people on the ICRC list. It’s not clear why there isn’t greater overlap between the ICRC list and the photograph. 

Interestingly, Heinz Löwenstein is identified as a “document forger.” He is kneeling in the lower right of the photo. Having multiple photos of him and having met him earlier in life, I can confirm this is Heinz. As I discussed and illustrated in Post 163, by happenstance, Brian found a group picture on Facebook of so-called Palestinian POWs taken at Stalag VIIIB that also includes an extremely haggard and gaunt looking Heinz Löwenstein. (Figure 6) It is remarkable how much healthier Heinz appears in the photo taken at Szigetvár. (Figure 7) In Roy’s article “The Messenger of Hope,” when he again encountered Heinz in Stalag XVIIA [Kaisersteinbruch, Austria] and Heinz gave Roy Natusch his identity papers (since he was now going by “Henry Goff”), he “. . .noticed how thin and exhausted Henry Loewenstein was from the privations of the Belgrade prison.”

 

Figure 6. Group photo that Brian Cooper found on Facebook of so-called Palestinian POWs at Lamsdorf, astonishingly including Heinz Löwenstein

 

Figure 7. Closeup of Heinz Löwenstein taken on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy in Szigetvár, Hungary between January and March 1944

 

Returning to the picture Paul London shared with me, it is fascinating to see images of some of the prisoners Heinz was interned with as well as individuals who wrote their own memoirs or were the subject of books that mentioned Heinz. The internees appear even more realistic in the AI-enhanced photo Paul was able to get a family friend to reproduce. (Figure 8)

 

Figure 8. AI-enhanced color copy of the original photo taken on the estate of Count Mihály Andrássy in Szigetvár, Hungary

 

Paul recently shared some dialogue from an unfinished documentary two brothers were producing on Roy Natusch during which they interviewed Dai Davies talking about Heinz Löwenstein: 

“Tell us about Henry Lowenstein. 

01:57:59:16 Henry Lowenstein was a totally different fellow. Very quiet chap, very, I think was well educated. Very intelligent chap, knew his stuff. And he was a master forger. He could forge every kind of thing. And he must have been able to speak German fluently, I assumed because some of the passes he made with the Nazi emblem on them, the eagle and the swastika. And with instructions that so-and-so should be doing this or that or should be going here. They were fantastic. 

01:58:47:13 And I don’t know how he did it, but he did it and he was a wonderfully educated fellow and a nice fellow. He had a way of speaking which irritated some people. I think it was because he was either French or some other nationality but I know he spoke German perfectly. But because of the way he spoke, he irritated some of our boys. But he was very, very intelligent. 

What were the tools of his trade as a forger? 

01:59:36:09 Well I don’t know where he got them from. He used to make ink on his own. I never found out how he made the ink. He used to make ink. And then he’d have a pen made out of timber or something like that, or a piece of a bone. He was a proper genius in that field. I think he would have made a fortune in the Bank of England. 

So he used calligraphy? 

02:00:06:09 Oh beautiful. And you see the way that the Germans write, they’ve got a hand-writing which is totally different to ours and he wrote in that style. 

02:00:42:03 Lowenstein was a master artist trade. He had the gothic style of writing and everything, marvelous. Lowenstein was a gentleman in my opinion and I don’t know what happened to him.” 

Ending this post quoting from someone who knew Heinz Löwenstein seems appropriate.

 

REFERENCES 

Davies, D.T.A. & Ioan Wyn Evans. All for Freedom: A True Story of Escape from the Nazis. Gomer Press, 2016. 

Jones, Francis S. The Double Dutchman: A story of wartime escape and intrigue. The Dunmore Press Limited, Palmerston North, New Zealand, 1977. 

Natusch, R. (1993). The Messenger of Hope. New Zealand Returned Servicemen’s Association Review.

 

POST 201: EXHIBIT OF FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S THREE RESCUED PAINTINGS AT THE MUSÉE D’ART ET D’HISTOIRE DU JUDAÏSME (MAHJ) IN PARIS

Note: Three of my father’s first cousin’s surviving paintings, among a lot of 25 seized by the Nazis in December 1940 at the Port of Bordeaux, are currently on display in Paris at the musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme (MAHJ). I participated in a round table discussion on the opening night on February 18, 2026. A comment by a high-level official during the event that the French Minister of Culture correctly followed French civil law in adjudicating the case prompts me to more fully explain my frustration with how my claim was handled, even though I now own the paintings. 

Related Posts: 

POST 105: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S NAZI-CONFISCATED ART: RESTITUTION DENIED 

POST 160: UPDATE ON COMPENSATION CLAIM AGAINST THE FRENCH MINISTRY OF CULTURE INVOLVING NAZI-CONFISCATED FAMILY ART  

POST 189: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025 

POST 189, POSTSCRIPT: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025 (CLARIFICATION) 

POST 197: THE HISTORY OF FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S SURVIVING CONFISCATED PAINTINGS

 

As I related in Post 189, I am now the owner of three surviving paintings rendered by Fédor Löwenstein, my father’s first cousin. These works were among 25 seized from him by the Nazis at the Port of Bordeaux on December 5, 1940, and the only ones thought to have survived the Nazi onslaught to destroy his so-called “degenerate art.” They were restituted to me at a ceremony that took place at The Centre Pompidou in Paris on September 16, 2025. Since taking possession of the paintings, I’ve agreed to loan them to two or three French museums over the next few years for displays on spoliated art from the Nazi era. 

The first of these exhibits opened at the musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme (mahJ) in Paris on February 18, 2026, and I was asked to participate in a round table discussion that evening. The paintings will be exhibited there until March 31, 2028, although one of the paintings, Composition, Landscape, will be transferred to l’Orangerie as part of a larger exhibit there on spoliated works before the end of the exhibit at mahJ. An exhibit at Le centre national Jean-Moulin in Bordeaux, the city where Fédor Löwenstein’s paintings were confiscated in 1940, is then possible later in 2028. 

Mme Pascale Samuel, the curator for modern and contemporary art at mahJ, opened the evening’s event and explained the purpose of the exhibit. (Figure 1) M. Didier Schulmann, former Director of The Centre Pompidou’s Kandinsky Library, moderated the evening’s discussion and explained the circumstances that led to the three surviving Löwenstein paintings being recognized as Nazi-looted art. (Figures 2-3)

 

Figure 1. Mme Pascale Samuel, the curator for modern and contemporary art at mahJ, on February 18, 2026, speaking at the opening of the exhibit on spoliated art and introducing panelists from left to right, Didier Schulmann, interpreter, me, and Florence Saragoza

 

 

Figure 2. M. Didier Schulmann, moderator of the panel discussion and former Director of the Kandinsky Library

 

 

Figure 3. M. Didier Schulmann and me having a discussion in front of the Fédor Löwenstein exhibit at mahJ

 

 M. Schulmann explained how the status of Löwenstein’s paintings was “legalized” in 1973 through administrative machinations. That year they were officially added to the modern art collections of the National Museum of Modern Art (Musée National d’Art Moderne (MNAM)) as an “anonymous donation.” Recognition of the three paintings as looted art, however, did not take place until December 2010. This was thanks to the work of archivists and curators, namely, Alain Prévet, head of the Archives of the National Museums, and Thierry Bajou, chief curator of artifacts of the French Museums. Didier reviewed how these two men were able to recognize Löwenstein’s paintings as looted art. I had the honor of meeting M. Prévet at the opening of the mahJ exhibit. (Figure 4)

 

Figure 4. M. Alain Prévet speaking with Mme Camille Roperche, Journalist Director, currently producing a 50-minute documentary for Canal+ on my Fédor Löwenstein claim

 

 

Preserved in the Archives of the National Museum are thirteen negatives showing views of the rooms at the Jeu de Paume (Figure 5) taken during the Nazi occupation exhibiting numerous pieces of art seized by the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg (ERR). The ERR was the “Special Task Force” headed by Adolf Hitler’s leading ideologue Alfred Rosenberg and the main Nazi agency engaged in the plunder of cultural valuables in Nazi-occupied countries during the Second World War. The plunder was brought to the Jeu de Paume building in the Tuileries Gardens in Paris for processing by the ERR’s “Special Staff for Pictorial Art,” the so-called the Sonderstab Bildende Kunst.

 

Figure 5. The backside of the Jeu de Paume as it looks today

 

Using the thirteen negatives, Prévet & Bajou undertook a detailed digitization of the visible paintings work by work. Each operation was accompanied by specific brightness adjustments to optimize the legibility of each artwork. Next, they performed a so-called anamorphosis to correct the distortions related to perspective. From this stage, it was then possible to identify several works and confirm attributions suggested elsewhere.

M. Schulmann explained that Prévet & Bajou referred to a list that the noted art historian Rose Valland then working at the Jeu de Paume recorded in her notebook on March 10, 1942, of modern art displayed on this date. It was the translation of a list drawn up by the German authorities that provided a brief description of the pieces of art with dimensions and the name of the owners from whom the artworks had been confiscated. Ironically, while this list was known to historians, astonishingly no one had ever cross referenced it with the photographs of the Jeu de Paume before Alain Prévet and Thierry Bajou did so. 

As Prévet & Bajou describe elsewhere: 

“We also used a website recently launched by a team of American researchers led by Marc Masurovski, which reproduces all the records compiled by the ERR during the looting. This website provides a directory of the looted individuals and the works that passed through the Jeu de Paume, enriched with photographs of the seized works, when available, taken by ERR agents. We found most of the works visible on the negatives there, but some of them, now identified, remain known only through these negatives when they were not specifically photographed by the Germans.” 

Didier Schulmann clarified how Prévet & Bajou’s discovery appropriately led to the removal of the three surviving Loewenstein paintings from the database of the MNAM and their incorporation into the database of the Musées nationaux récupération (MNR). 

A digression to explain MNR artworks. Between 1940 and 1945, approximately 100,000 cultural assets were looted in France, primarily from Jewish families, by the Nazi regime and the Vichy Government, or were sold under duress. Many of these items were transferred to Germany. At the end of the Second World War, approximately 60,000 works recovered in Germany or in territories controlled by the Third Reich were returned to France, as various clues (archives, inscriptions, etc.) suggested that they originated there. 

Of the roughly 60,000 objects returned from Germany, 45,000 looted assets were restituted to their owners by the commission de récupération artistique (CRA) (Artistic Recovery Commission) between 1945 and 1950. Of the approximately 15,000 works that were neither claimed nor restituted, the administration, acting through “selection committees,” selected more than 2,200 based on various criteria (notably artistic merit), entrusting them to the care of the national museums and often deposited in regional institutions. These constitute the works known as “Musées Nationaux Récupération.” 

Not all MNR works are necessarily looted works. In fact, all objects originating in France were brought back from Germany to France after the Second World War, regardless of how they’d left France and reached Germany. The reality is that some of these objects had not been looted but were items sold on the art market during the Occupation by owners who were neither threatened nor persecuted or pieces commissioned by Germans. The proportion of looted works within the entire body of MNR items remains unknown. The provenance of most of these works remains unclear. By the Minister of Culture’s own estimates, 85% of the MNR works and objects still have incomplete provenance with their owners on the eve of the war unknown. 

The 13,000 works remaining in the early 1950s after restitution and selections as MNR works were sold by the State (via the Administration of State Property). 

As just discussed, the acronym MNR refers to the group of approximately 2,200 artworks. On museum wall labels, the MNR designation signals the complex history of the works. At the Musée National d’Art Moderne, where the three surviving Löwenstein paintings were stored prior to their restitution, these works were not labeled MNR, but “RxP,” specifically, R26P (Les Peupliers), R27P (Les Arbres), and R28P (Composition). 

As I explained in Post 189, Postscript, there are two separate entities involved in the reparation of works looted by the Nazis in France during the Second World War. One is part of the French Ministry of Culture and is known as the “Mission for the Research and Restitution of Cultural Property Looted between 1933 and 1945,” Mission de recherche et des restitution des biens culturels spolies entre 1933 et 1945 (MR2S) and is headed by M. David Zivie. The second is the independent “Commission pour la restitution des biens et l’indeminisation des victimes de spoliations antisemites (CIVS)” attached to the office of the French Prime Minister. It is worth noting that MR2S was created in April 2019, five years after I initially submitted my claim for reparations to the Ministry of Culture. 

MR2S is dedicated to researching and promoting the “policy of reparation” for looting. They undertake proactive research but also do investigations at the request of CIVS. The results of MR2S research are sent to the CIVS, who deliberate and issue opinions and recommend repatriation measures. The Ministry of Culture implements the CIVS’s recommendations and the Prime Minister’s decision by organizing the restitution of looted assets. 

The Minister of Culture’s “Press kit—Restitution of three paintings by Fedor Loewenstein looted during the Second World War,” issued on the occasion of the Restitution Ceremony on September 16, 2025, notes the following regarding the number of looted works returned: “The number of works looted during the Nazi period that have returned since 1950, or that have been the subject of an agreement with the rights holders, now stands at 221, including 200 MNR or equivalent items, 20 works from national or territorial public connections and 1 book from national collections. Of this total, 57 items have been returned as part of proactive research by the administration, museums and libraries over the past ten years.” 

The Press kit further asserts: “This restitution is the result of the proactive research work of the Ministry of Culture, which identified the owner of the three works and wished to find its beneficiaries in order to return them to them. At the same time, the restitution had been requested by a member of the painter’s family, who wanted to make the artist known and to disseminate his work. The Minister of Culture thanks Fyodor Löwenstein’s second cousin for the upcoming loan of these three works, which will be exhibited at the Museum of Jewish Art and History from February 19, 2026.” Obviously, the last part refers to me and my efforts over the last twelve years. 

Let me briefly summarize what was discussed by the second panelist, Mme Florence Saragoza, current Director at the Musée national du château de Pau, famous as the birthplace of King Henry IV of France that showcases collections from his time. 

Regular followers will recognize Florence’s name. She helped me file my compensation claim in 2014. She is someone I hold in great esteem and now consider a friend. I refer readers to earlier posts, specifically, Posts 189, 189 Postscript, and 197, for detailed background on Florence’s connection and involvement with Fédor Löwenstein’s paintings. As I’ve discussed elsewhere, after learning in 2014 that the three surviving Löwenstein paintings were first displayed at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux that year and that Florence had been the curator, I reached out to her. Coincidentally, at the time, Florence was the Director of the Musée Crozatier, an archaeological museum in le Puy-en-Velay; regular readers know I’m a retired archaeologist. Following her stint at the Musée Crozatier, Florence was the Director of the Toulouse Lautrec Museum in Albi. 

During the evening presentation at mahJ, Florence told audience members some of Fédor Löwenstein’s personal history and his evolution as an artist, how she collected information about him and visited the house in Mirmande where Fedor took refuge during the Second World War that was once owned by his girlfriend, Marcelle Rivier, but is now owned by a couple who cared for Marcelle in her later years. I had the pleasure of meeting this couple, M. and Mme Sapet (Figure 6), during the opening of the exhibit, who own some of Löwenstein’s artworks including his iconic painting, “La Chute,” The Fall. Florence discussed the 2014 Bordeaux exhibit she arranged and her involvement two years before that as then-curator at the Minister of Culture in an exhibit on art looted from the Aquitaine region of southwestern France, an area of many Nazi confiscations.

 

 

Figure 6. Me speaking with M. & Mme Sapet from Mirmande, owners of several Fédor Löwenstein paintings, including his iconic painting, “La Chute”

 

 

In my presentation I focused on how I’d learned about Fédor Löwenstein (1901-1946) through photos and a letter I discovered in the archives of the Stadtmuseum in Spandau outside Berlin written by his sister on October 30, 1946, to their aunt discussing the posthumous sale of one of Fédor’s paintings for a large sum of money. Upon further investigation I learned that Fédor had been an accomplished artist whose works were deemed by the Nazis to be degenerate art, meaning many had been confiscated by them and consigned for destruction. 

I went on to explain how I learned that three of the 25 paintings seized by the Nazis had survived their destructive onslaught, and that the French Minister of Culture was looking for heirs to whom to restore them. I briefly summarized my twelve-year ordeal to recover them, and how I ultimately prevailed. I expressed my frustration that while I eventually obtained the surviving paintings, I was forced to relinquish the substantial compensation the France’s Minister of Culture was offering for the 22 paintings that are lost and presumed to have been destroyed and spend a considerable sum in legal fees. 

I explained that my claim was trumped by those of two so-called universal legatees because inheritance laws in France are governed by civil law rather than common law. Simply put, this means that the inheritance rights of non-blood heirs can prevail over those of blood relatives, such as myself, if blood relatives, some not yet even born, are not specifically named in wills. I was deemed by the Minister of Culture to be a third level heir and was forced to argue I should be eligible for what amounts to a finder’s fee. 

The French Minister of Culture issued their initial rejection of my compensation claim in early 2020 just as Covid was taking hold. Perhaps on account of the timing and my frustration with the decision, I was very slow to react and almost missed the deadline to appeal. Eventually as a cathartic release, I used my blog as a platform to write a post very pointedly expressing my unhappiness (see Post 105). One of my distant cousins read this post and suggested I contact her lawyer in New York. It turns out that she and her extended family are involved in their own longstanding compensation claim involving her great-uncle’s enormous collection of art looted by the Nazis from his art salon in Berlin and/or sold under duress at greatly depreciated prices. My cousin’s lawyer has had great success over the years obtaining compensation for her and her family. 

Realizing I had nothing to lose, I followed her suggestion. My cousin’s lawyer was extremely gracious though unable to help knowing I would need a French lawyer to pursue my claim. Instead, he referred me to one of his colleagues, an American-trained French-born lawyer, also specializing in compensation claims involving Nazi seizures. This colleague in turn put me in touch with one of his colleagues in France, a lawyer with whom he collaborates closely on claims cases in that country and someone I wound up hiring. This is an example of successfully using my blog to promote my own endeavors. 

As noted above, the French Minister of Culture’s rejection of my claim happened because France is governed by civil law vs. common law; a commenter aptly noted the French Ministry was constrained in the decision they could render by this fact. Had I anticipated this comment by a high-level French official, I would have emphasized the following point. As I understand things, the French Ministry of Culture, specifically MR2S, not only implements the CIVS’s recommendations and the Prime Minister’s decision for restitutions but they also try to find original solutions for resolving claims such as mine. Without belaboring the point, the creative resolution to my compensation claim was advanced by me and my lawyer, not by the CIVS or MR2S. 

I initiated the compensation claim without an awareness of the existence of the two universal legatees. When the Minister of Culture eventually learned of their existence, they offered them the opportunity to subrogate my case, that’s to say, claim it as their own. This was clearly an offer that was too good for the legatees to turn down. 

Let me return to an issue I alluded to above, namely, the Minister of Culture’s proactive efforts to find Fédor Löwenstein’s rightful heirs. The 2014 exhibit at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux along with the exhibition catalog represented an effort to ferret out potential legal heirs. However, at the time I contacted Florence Saragoza, the Minister of Culture had not progressed in identifying any. Had I not accidentally discovered the letter written by Fédor’s sister on October 30, 1946, at the Stadtmuseum and filed my claim, it’s unclear how long it would have taken for the Minister of Culture to initiate their proactive search. Given the high-profile nature of the Löwenstein paintings and the unique circumstances that led to their discovery as looted art, it is possible that such a proactive search would have been initiated sooner rather than later but my claim clearly accelerated the forensic search for heirs. 

And in fact, in 2015 I was contacted by the Minister’s forensic genealogist who’d only been contracted by the Minister of Culture following the submission of my claim the prior year. The genealogist asked me to furnish any genealogical information I had. Thinking I was boosting my own case, I naively provided a large file of documents and photographs proving my close ancestral relationship to Fédor Löwenstein; this included multiple primary source documents I obtained at great financial cost by personally visiting the archives where these documents are kept, documents that are not otherwise available online. 

Readers may wonder why I feel so much frustration with how my claim was handled given that I ultimately prevailed in retrieving Fédor Löwenstein’s surviving paintings after only 12 years. This is a legitimate question particularly since some Jewish descendants whose ancestors’ artworks were seized never attain any such closure or their claims are litigated for multiple generations without any resolution. I read about such cases all the time. One hurdle I cleared that many other claimants never get past is that the French Minister of Culture acknowledged the Löwenstein paintings were looted art that should be returned to rightful heirs. 

Beyond the large financial burden imposed on me and the compensation monies I forewent, I ultimately undertook an enormous amount of work and effort on behalf of two universal legatees who never spent a dime, never acknowledged nor thanked me for my work, and were unaware of Lowenstein’s existence and significance. Furthermore, my displeasure is also rooted in France’s treatment of my family during the Second World War. This resulted in my aunt being murdered by the Nazis with the complicity of the Vichy French, and my father being denied the opportunity to work as a dentist in France after the Second World War even though he’d admirably served in the French Foreign Legion for five years during this time. As a retired archaeologist whose interest has always been rooted in the past, I am here to resoundingly state that the past matters and cannot be forgotten, notwithstanding what some deniers of history would bloviate about. I was heartened by the fact that a former unnamed member of the Prime Minister’s CIVS commission came up to me after the panel discussion to tell me that several members of the commission argued in favor of my position. This is affirmation that my frustration is warranted. 

REFERENCES 

Ministère de la Culture. (2025, September 16). Tracking the ghost paintings of Fédor Löwenstein, lost to Nazi looting. [Press release]. 

Prévet, A, Bajou, T. La récente identification de tableaux spoliés à l’artiste Fédor Löwenstein, in Florence Saragoza (ed.), L’Art victime de la guerre. Destin des œuvres d’art en Aquitaine pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale, Bordeaux, 2012, p. 33-35

 

POST 200: ALBERT EINSTEIN’S “CONNECTION” TO FLORENCE AND FIESOLE, ITALY

 

CORRECTIONS & ADDITIONS MADE ON 3/21/2026

Note: Albert Einstein spent three-and-a-half days in October 1921 visiting his sister and her husband in Florence (in error several sources repeat they were then living in Fiesole, where my aunt and uncle briefly lived between 1936 and 1938.) This has evolved into an almost legendary tale that Albert often visited Florence and Fiesole and regularly played his violin in the cloister of the Convento San Francesco in Fiesole, accompanied by the Padre’s organ playing. A recent trip to Fiesole and a simultaneous contact by a researcher from the Einstein Papers Project asking about my possible kinship with a Dr. Max Adolf Bruck, who corresponded with Einstein between 1931 and 1941, inexplicably captured my imagination about Albert Einstein’s visit there. I offer no explanation for the evolution of this tale, other than self-aggrandizement, but merely discuss what the evidence suggests. 

Related Posts: 

POST 122: HERTA BRAUER, THE FAMILY CONNECTION TO THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC’S NOTORIOUS DICTATOR, RAFAEL TRUJILLO 

POST 122, POSTSCRIPT: HERTA BRAUER, THE FAMILY CONNECTION TO THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC’S NOTORIOUS DICTATOR, RAFAEL TRUJILLO 

POST 199: VISITING THE VILLA PRIMAVERA IN FIESOLE, ITALY, MY AUNT AND UNCLE’S HOME BETWEEN 1936 AND 1938: THE FOURTH TIME WAS THE CHARM

 

I never know where the idea for a post will come from. Given that I’ve had my family history blog going for nine years and have researched and written about a myriad of topics and people, many not specifically related to my family, I’m no longer surprised what will catch my fancy. What has caught my attention now stems from my recent visit to Florence and the Tuscan hill town above it, Fiesole, where my aunt and uncle temporarily escaped the Nazis between 1936 and 1938. This was the subject of my previous post. Beyond finally visiting the Villa Primavera that was the site of my aunt and uncle’s refuge for a brief period, I heard an interesting tale that forms the basis for this post. Let me start at the beginning. 

During my recent travels with my wife to Paris and Florence, I received an email from a reader, a German lady named Barbara Wolff, asking if I was familiar with a Dr. Max (Adolf) Bruck. I am not. One of her most recent research tasks as part of the so-called Einstein Papers Project (EPP) has been to identify Max Bruck, born on the 14th of April 1908 in Frankenstein, Silesia [today: Ząbkowice Śląskie, Poland], who communicated with Albert Einstein between 1931 and 1941. More on this below. 

First, let me place this in context so readers will understand the basis of Barbara’s question and the admittedly tiny sliver of Einstein’s life that has captured my interest. Albeit a brief connection to Fiesole and Florence, I find it fascinating as Barbara wrote to me that “unfortunately, numerous myths and legends are spread about Einstein.” (Personal communication, email dated 3/1/2026) Let me concisely explain how Barbara can make this claim and try and separate truth from fiction vis-à-vis Einstein’s brief association with Florence and Fiesole.

After a long tenure at the at the Albert Einstein Archives, Barbara has joined the team of the Einstein Papers Project. For those ignorant of this project, as I sadly am, let me explain what I learned. The EPP is a long-term academic endeavor dedicated to researching, transcribing, translating, and publishing the massive written legacy of Albert Einstein. The Albert Einstein Archives, the AEA, at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, holds the original papers and collaborates closely with the project. The online Einstein Archives has a database of 90,000+ records of all known Einstein manuscripts and correspondence and the full text of 2,000 digitized items. The project produces “The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein,” a projected 30-volume series published by Princeton University Press, seventeen volumes of which have been published to date and are currently working on volume 18. The EPP has been hosted at the California Institute of Technology (Caltech) in Pasadena, California, since 2000. 

Max Bruck does not appear in my ancestral tree, but I promised Barbara that upon my return stateside I would investigate him and see what I could learn. With the date and place of Max’s birth, I found some relevant documents though nothing the EPP has not already located. Personally, the most interesting thing I found was an ancestral “tree” with Max and his father Bruno Bruck’s names, from an unpublished family history written by Alfred Julius Bruck which I first came across at the Mormon Church’s FamilySearch Library in Salt Lake City many years ago. (Figure 1) I will always recall the title because it was pretentiously named, “A Thousand Year History of the Bruck Family”; I have a copy of a less pretentiously called version. In any case, were I interested enough, I could uncover the ancestral connection between Max and myself. Perhaps one day.

 

Figure 1. Ancestral “tree” from Alfred Julius Bruck’s family history with Max Bruck and his father Bruno Bruck identified

 

At this moment, permit me a short digression. I’ve made the point ad nauseum that what brings me a delicious thrill doing ancestral research is discovering unexpected connections between places and people. When introducing herself Barbara Wolff mentioned in passing that she was a childhood friend of my second cousin, Margarita Vilgertshofer, née Bruck, with whom I’m in regular contact. I’ve occasionally mentioned Margarita in blog posts which is how Barbara became aware that we’re related. Since Barbara had lost contact with her as a child, I’ve put them back in touch. 

Moving on. For reasons I can no longer recall, perhaps just making idle conversation, while recently visiting Giuditta Melli, my wife’s and my friend from Florence, I mentioned I’d recently been contacted by Barbara Wolff from the EPP, completely unaware of Albert Einstein’s remote connection to Florence and Fiesole. We happened to be in Fiesole at the time, and Giuditta suggested a walk to the nearby Convento San Francesco (Figure 2) where she told us that Einstein would often play his violin in the cloister accompanied by the Franciscan father’s organ playing. (Figure 3) This revelation came as a complete surprise. I was led to believe that Albert Einstein had visited on multiple occasions and had become good friends with Father Odorico Caramelli (1884-1962) (Figure 4), the so-called Guardian of the Convento at the time. I resolved to further investigate this.

 

Figure 2. The Convento San Francesco

 

 

Figure 3. The cloister at the Convento San Francesco where Albert Einstein is reputed to have played his violin accompanied by Father Caramelli playing the church organ

 

Figure 4. Painting of Father Odorico Caramelli (1884-1962)

 

Fast forward. Upon my return home, I naively mentioned to Barbara what I’d learned about Albert Einstein’s “multiple visits” to Florence and Fiesole and his purported friendship with the Franciscan father who ran the Convento San Francesco in Fiesole, asking if she knew more about this. I use the term “naively” realizing in retrospect it was pretentious of me to think this would not be general knowledge among scholars who’ve long studied Einstein. However, what I learned in the process reinforces something I’ve emphasized in some of my posts, the need to rely on primary source documents, so in this instance what Albert Einstein wrote and what researchers studying his archive have uncovered. 

In response to my innocent question, Barbara patiently explained the “few summers” Albert Einstein spent in Florence-Fiesole was confined to a short stint in October 1921. Albert was very close to his sister Maria “Maya” Winteler, née Einstein (1881-1951), two years his junior. Maya, born in Munich, earned a degree in Romance languages and literature in Bern, Switzerland in 1909. A year later she married a lawyer, Paul Winteler. Maya no doubt met her future husband through her brother. Years before, after Albert Einstein failed his entrance exam to the Zurich Polytechnic Institute, he’d been sent to Aarau, Switzerland to study and lodged with the Winteler family for almost a year.

Maya and Paul eventually moved to Italy in around 1921, first renting an apartment in Florence at Via Ficino 8, then in November 1921 moving to Fiesole to Via Giuseppe Verdi. In 1922, they bought a home in the Sesto-Fiorentino (Figure 5) area of Florence they named “Samos,” after the beautiful Greek island.

 

Figure 5. Map showing the location of Sesto-Fiorentino, where Maya Einstein and her husband owned their home named “Samos,” in relation to Fiesole and central Florence

 

 

When Albert visited Maya and her husband in October 1921, they would then have been living, as just noted, at Via Ficino 8 in Florence; an error that is often repeated in various sources, according to Barbara, is that when Albert visited, he stayed with his sister and brother-in-law in Fiesole. Regardless, this is when Albert “. . . established a friendship—sort of—with Pater Odorico Caramelli and Frater Clementino.” Barbara further notes that “despite many later invitations [to Samos] the only visit her brother could pay her took place in 1921. That was the year when he indeed made music with the Franciscan monk. . .the ‘few summers’ were actually just a short stint in October 1921.” 

It was Einstein’s stepdaughter Margot, about whom Einstein fervently remarked, “when Margot passes, flowers are born,” that took up the relationship with the Franciscan father. She sculpted her “Maternita” (Figure 6) for the cloister in around 1937.

 

 

Figure 6. Maya Einstein’s sculpture entitled “Maternita” that she donated to the Convento San Francesco ca. 1937

 

A prominent free, English-language news magazine and website published every other Thursday in Florence, called “The Florentine,” has erroneously written that Albert “often visited” his sister in Florence. This same article makes other claims that are not supported by reality, according to Barbara, specifically that during his “visits to Florence, Albert also spent time with his first cousin, Robert Einstein, and his family.” Robert and his family were still living in Rome at the time Albert had left Europe for good. 

Yet another fanciful recollection relates to the caption to a watercolor rendered by Robert’s young niece, Lorenza Mazzetti, which pretends to provide a glimpse into a family visit. It is captioned: “This is a portrait of Uncle Robert’s cousin, Maya’s brother. His name is Albert Einstein. He lives in America, and when he’s there, he works as a scientist, and when he comes here, he goes on the swing.” As Barbara remarks, “this is pure self-important fabrication.” 

The Albert Einstein Archives includes a letter dated the 17th of September 1953, written by Albert Einstein together with Margot (she attached a French translation to her stepfather’s German handwriting). Some published accounts claim this letter was addressed to Father Odorico Caramelli at the Convento San Francesco in Fiesole when in fact it was sent to Father Fiorenzo Falcini, another monk at the Convento.

ITALIAN VERSION: 

Caro padre ora che lei è tornato dal suo lungo viaggio mi si offre l’opportunità di esternarle dal profondo dell’animo la mia riconoscenza per tutte le gentili premure che Lei ha avuto per mia cugina durante la sua malattia, alleviandole la sofferenza. Quando da giovane venni in Italia ho potuto constatare con gioia quali sentimenti alberghino nell’animo del popolo italiano. Inoltre da più parti mi è stato riferito che durante gli oscuri tempi del fascismo e del dominio di Hitler, molte persone hanno rischiato la vita per soccorrere le vittime della persecuzione. In questa straordinaria situazione ove la solidarietà umana è tutto, i suoi compatrioti si sono rivelati i più onesti e i più nobili tra le genti da me conosciute durante la mia lunga vita. Queste caratteristiche si armonizzano con lo sviluppato senso di quella bellezza, tanto forte in voi che si rivela in tutte le manifestazioni della vita. Avrei preferito scrivere in italiano, ma non sono più capace”. 

ENGLISH TRANSLATION: 

Dear father, now that you have returned from your long journey, I am offered the opportunity to express to you from the bottom of my soul my gratitude for all the kind care you had for my cousin during her illness, relieving her suffering. When I came to Italy as a young man I saw with joy how much empathy and genuine humaneness is alive in the Italian people. In addition, I have been told from many sides that during the dark times of fascism and Hitler’s rule, many people risked their lives to help the victims of persecution. In this extraordinary situation where human solidarity is everything, your compatriots have proved to be the most honest and noble among the peoples I have known during my long life. These characteristics harmonise with the highly developed sense of beauty, evident in all the manifestations of life. I would have preferred to write in Italian, but I’m not able to anymore.” 

Barbara tells me the unnamed cousin referred to in this letter is Alice Steinhardt, née Koch, who died in Florence in June 1953 after a prolonged illness. One of the Franciscan monks (Alessandro or Fiorenzo Falcini) notified Einstein’s family in Princeton. Because Alice’s name is not specifically mentioned in the above letter, in some reports Einstein’s words are erroneously associated with Einstein’s cousin Robert’s mourning for the loss of his wife and children. 

Regarding Robert Einstein’s wife and two daughters, they were killed by German soldiers in August 1944 at Villa Il Focardo near Florence. A book by Thomas Harding entitled “The Einstein Vendetta” examines the question of whether the killings were a deliberate act of revenge ordered by high-ranking Nazis because of their kinship to Albert Einstein and for his prominent stand against the Nazi regime, or random wartime killings. Robert was hiding in nearby woods when his family was killed, and his guilt and grief caused him to commit suicide less than a year later. 

I’ve gone to lengths to explain Einstein’s 1953 letter because of varying accounts it has spawned. 

In researching this post, I stumbled upon a 2023 article by Antonella Gasperini from the Arcetri Astrophysical Observatory, entitled “History, science and music at the Arcetri Observatory.” The Observatory preserves an important historical heritage consisting of archival documents, ancient books, and scientific instrumentation. Among the items in their collection is the Blüthner piano that belonged to Maya Einstein that was given to her by her brother and then entrusted to Hans Joachim Staude when she fled Florence in 1939, in hopes of recovering it after the war. Regrettably, Maya suffered from arteriosclerosis, and while her return to Italy in 1946 was considered and discussed, her condition made living an independent life impossible. She died in Princeton in 1951, never recovering her piano nor reuniting with her husband who’d been unable to accompany her to America for medical reasons. 

Barbara confirmed that with one exception, highlighted in an “Editor’s Note,” the article accurately captures Albert Einstein’s brief connection to Fiesole. I include the author’s discussion about the history of Maya’s piano. Quoting: 

The latest acquisition of a historical asset by the Arcetri Observatory dates back to 2016 and concerns an object that is ‘unusual’ in an astronomical observatory: a Blüthner piano (no. 51833), built in Leipzig in 1899. Not just any old piano, but one with a unique history, in which music, history and science come together. An object from which invisible threads reach out, binding the stories of people, of families affected by the tragic history of the 20th century, made up of exiles, persecutions and migrations. It is the piano that belonged to Maja Einstein, Albert’s sister, who had decided to move permanently to Italy with her husband Paul Winteler in 1921, briefly to Fiesole and then to a country house between Florence and Sesto Fiorentino that they named ‘Samos’. 

At the beginning of her stay in Florence, Maja established a close friendship with the friars of the Convent of St. Francis in Fiesole, which would last for many years. The Convent of St. Francis was not only a destination for many visitors and believers, but also for men of culture who came to meet Father Odorico Caramelli, a musician and intellectual linked to Giovanni Papini and the world of Florentine cultural magazines at the turn of the century. When Einstein was invited by Federigo Enriques to give lectures in Bologna in October 1921, the physicist decided to spend a few days with his sister, taking his son Hans Albert with him. He arrived in Florence on the 18th of October but asked to remain incognito. He had just won the Nobel Prize and was already at the peak of his fame. [EDITOR’S NOTE: THE TRUTH IS THAT HE WON THE NOBEL PRIZE IN 1922 FOR THE YEAR 1921.] The calendar of the time in Florence was full (he left on the 21st of October), but we know for certain that he visited the Convent of Fiesole. According to some testimonies, the memory of this visit took on a mythical aura over time. For example: 

At night he would descend into the woods outside the Convents and, sitting on the wall of the Etruscan cistern, he would play to the moon.

It seems hard to imagine that, during the three and a half days spent in Florence, Einstein went to play in the moonlight every night, but he definitely went to Fiesole on the 20th of October, as proven by his signature in the visitors’ register. Another possible destination for Einstein during his few days in Florence seems to have been the Arcetri Observatory, but the only evidence of this is entrusted to a recollection by Pierantonio Abetti, Giorgio’s son, who writes in an article dated 2003: 

In the 1920s, Albert Einstein came to visit his sister every summer and went up to the Observatory to talk to my father. 

Here again, family memory may have been misleading, because biographical studies reveal that Einstein visited Florence for the last time during those few days in October 1921. It is plausible, however, that Einstein and Abetti knew each other through common scientific interests, although this is not supported by further evidence. In his article, Pierantonio also reproduced a photo of Einstein with a dedication to Abetti dated 1931, as proof of the acquaintance and esteem between the two scientists, but this does not prove Einstein’s actual presence at the Observatory in that year. 

Someone who undoubtedly visited the Observatory in 1931 was Maja Einstein, as documented in the register of signatures of visitors to the Observatory dated 11 November 1931, together with Nesta de Robeck, a piano teacher in the Anglo-Florentine circle, and the astronomer Luigi Jacchia (a coincidence or an acquaintance?) who was a student in Bologna at the time11. Maja took part in Florentine cultural life, especially music, and participated in local artistic initiatives. In ‘Samos’, the Einstein-Wintelers had built up a circle of friends – musicians, painters, young art history scholars – who lived under the banner of art. Among them was Hans Joachim Staude, a painter and musician from Hamburg, who had trained in Aby Warburg’s circle. 

Live music was played during the evenings at ‘Samos’, and Maja often duetted at the piano with Staude. Maja was not a professional musician, but music was the essence of her life. When Albert decided to buy her a second-hand Blüthner piano in 1931, restoring it and sending it to Florence, Maja was overjoyed, as testified by numerous letters. 

Unfortunately, with the publication of the Race Manifesto in July 1938 and the exclusion of Jews from political social life at the end of 1938, the political situation became increasingly critical, and, at the beginning of 1929 [sic] [EDITOR’S NOTE: 1939], Maja was forced to leave Italy and join her brother in the United States. She then decided to entrust her beloved piano to Hans Joachim Staude in the hope of returning soon and reuniting with her husband. After the war, she made several attempts to return to Europe, but poor health forced Maja to remain in Princeton until her death in 1951. 

The Blüthner No. 51833 remained with the Staude family for over seventy years. Thanks to the willingness of the family and the interest of Francesco Palla, astronomer and director of the Observatory from 2005 to 2011, in 2016, the piano, a very special cultural asset, finally found its place in the library with the commitment to make the history of discrimination linked to this instrument known and not forgotten. 

So, based on Antonella Gasperini and Barbara Wolff’s research, Albert Einstein’s “multiple visits” to Florence and Fiesole boil down to one three-and-a-half day stay in Florence with his sister Maya and her husband in their apartment in October 1921. As far as Albert Einstein’s playing his violin at the Convento San Francesco in Fiesole accompanied by Father Caramelli playing the organ, this must perforce have happened over one or two days.

In the previous post, I discussed so-called “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia”, “Stay of Foreigners in Italy” forms which guests staying at the bed-and-breakfast run by my aunt Suzanne and Lucia von Jacobi at the Villa Primavera and other visitors to Italy were compelled to complete. I thought Albert Einstein might have been required to complete one during his visit. Independently, however, I discovered these forms were only required during Italy’s Fascist era from 1922 until 1943. The best evidence we have that Albert Einstein visited the Convento in Fiesole, as Gasperini notes, is his signature in the visitors’ register dated the 20th of October 1921. As Gasperini further remarks, the memory of Einstein’s visit has over time taken on a “mythical aura,” a trap I almost fell into. 

Closing the loop. As noted at the outset of this post, I’ve had my family history blog for almost nine years. In Post 122 and Post 122, Postscript, I wrote about Herta Brauer, a relative by marriage, who wound up in the Dominican Republic, one of the few places in the world willing to accept Jewish emigres during the Second World War. Herta went on to achieve great fame in the Dominican Republic and established the ballet company there that has produced a string of world-class ballet dancers. Because the then dictator Rafael Trujillo took an unreciprocated love interest in her, she was in danger of being murdered by him and forced to flee. A documentary has just been completed about Herta which placed me in contact with a gentleman affiliated with the project several years ago. 

In any case, in one of her emails, Barbara mentioned in passing the existence in the Albert Einstein Archives of a letter Max Albert Bruck wrote to Einstein on the 11th of November 1941 from the Dominican Republic. Curious whether I could find documentary evidence of Max’s presence there, I asked my acquaintance in the Dominican Republic if he could locate anything in their archives. And, to my great pleasure he did, one document of which even includes a photograph of him. (Figures 7a-c) Another document identifies him as a farmer in Sosua, then later he is identified as a doctor, which was his actual profession.

 

Figure 7a. Max Adolf Bruck’s 1941 Dominican Republic immigration permit including his picture showing him living in Sosua, Puerto Plata

 

 

Figure 7b. Max Adolf Bruck’s 1942 residence renewal permit identifying him as a farmer still living in Sosua

 

 

Figure 7c. Max Adolf Bruck’s 1944 residence renewal permit now identifying him as a doctor still living in Sosua

 

As readers can see, a blog post which starts in a Tuscan hill town in Italy almost seamlessly winds up on an island in the Caribbean. These are the types of connections I absurdly like to make. 

One final comment. My exchanges with Barbara Wolff have been casual emails, so any errors I’ve made in translation are exclusively my own doing. 

REFERENCES 

Agnoli, F. Albert Einstein and Fra Odorico. Philosophy, religion and politics in Albert Einstein, ESD. 

https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.libertaepersona.org%2Fwordpress%2F2018%2F08%2Falbert-einstein-e-il-suo-amico-frate-italiano-e-musicista%2F&data=05%7C02%7C%7Ca2386e34474a48d7a0f908de7b9fa867%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C639084122823914261%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJFbXB0eU1hcGkiOnRydWUsIlYiOiIwLjAuMDAwMCIsIlAiOiJXaW4zMiIsIkFOIjoiTWFpbCIsIldUIjoyfQ%3D%3D%7C0%7C%7C%7C&sdata=U7dn6AFqLEeA9KNsKiNwU3Aqt7a9ozPkR48QceSd0Qo%3D&reserved=0 

Gasperini, A. (2023) Storia, scienza e musica all’Osservatoria di Arceti (History, science and music at the Arceti Observatory.) Firenze University Press, 12 (1), 85-92. 

https://oajournals.fupress.net/index.php/cdg/article/download/14411/13285 

Pirro, D. Maria (Maya) Einstein. The Florentine, 2015 Feb 05. 

https://www.theflorentine.net/2015/02/05/maria-maja-einstein/

 

 

POST 199: VISITING THE VILLA PRIMAVERA IN FIESOLE, ITALY, MY AUNT AND UNCLE’S HOME BETWEEN 1936 AND 1938: THE FOURTH TIME WAS THE CHARM

Notes: In this post, I describe how after three previous unsuccessful attempts over 12 years, my wife and I were invited to visit the villa in Fiesole, a Tuscan hill town above Florence, where my aunt and uncle settled between 1936 and 1938. This invitation was made possible entirely thanks to our good Italian friend, Giuditta Melli, whom we fatefully met at a bus stop in 2014. Given that Florence and Fiesole were briefly havens for German Jews who fled after Hitler came to power in 1933, it is so fitting that a Jewish family now owns the floors once occupied by my ancestors.

 

Related Posts:

POST 21: MY AUNT SUSANNE, NÉE BRUCK, & HER HUSBAND DR. FRANZ MÜLLER, THE FIESOLE YEARS

POST 35: FATE OF SOME JEWISH GUESTS WHO STAYED AT THE VILLA PRIMAVERA (FIESOLE, ITALY), 1937-1938

POST 68: DR. JULIUS BRUCK AND HIS INFLUENCE ON MODERN ENDOSCOPY

POST 68, POSTSCRIPT: DR. JULIUS BRUCK, ENGINEER OF MODERN ENDOSCOPY-TRACKING SOME OF HIS DESCENDANTS

POST 189: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LOWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025

 

Fiesole is a historic hilltop town in Tuscany, Italy known for its Etruscan and Roman ruins. (Figure 1) This is a place with stunning views overlooking Florence. It was a favored destination of many German Jewish intellectuals after Adolf Hitler came to power in 1933. My aunt Suzanne Müller, née Bruck (1904-1942) and uncle, Dr. Franz Müller (1871-1945) (Figure 2), came here in early 1936. I have no doubt they would have stayed for the remainder of their lives save for the forced displacement of non-Italian Jews by Mussolini in 1938.

 

Figure 1. Roman amphitheater in Fiesole in 2014

 

Figure 2. My aunt Suzanne Müller, née Bruck (1904-1942) and uncle Dr. Franz Müller (1871-1945) at the Villa Primavera in Fiesole in 1938

 

As I wrote in 2018 in Post 21, shortly after Hitler and Mussolini’s visit to Florence on May 9, 1938, greeted by huge crowds, Mussolini embraced the “Manifesto of the Racial Scientists” on July 14, 1938. Basically, this Manifesto declared the Italian civilization to be of Aryan origin and claimed the existence of a “pure” Italian race to which Jews did not belong. Between September 2, 1938, and November 17, 1938, Italy enacted a series of racial laws, including one forbidding foreign Jews from settling in Italy. 

An emigration log I obtained from the Archivio Comunale Di Fiesole, the Municipal Archives of Fiesole, confirms my aunt and uncle departed Florence on September 16, 1938 (Figure 3), corresponding with the period in which these racial laws were enacted. Upon their departure from Fiesole, my aunt and uncle left in favor of Fayence, France, where my uncle’s daughter from an earlier marriage lived on a fruit farm owned by her brother-in-law.

 

Figure 3. Fiesole Emigration Register showing my aunt and uncle departed Fiesole on the 16th of September 1938

 

Let me review what I wrote in Post 21 about three previous visits to Fiesole, respectively, in 2014, 2015, and 2016, unsuccessfully attempting to visit the Villa Primavera. 

My wife and I first stopped and stayed in Fiesole in 2014 during our 13-week trip that year visiting places across Europe associated with my Jewish family’s diaspora. While we failed to access the Villa Primavera that year, we met an Italian lady under circumstances I can only characterize as fated. Let me explain. 

When traveling in Europe, we typically rent a car to more easily access the many small out of the way places we visit. Such was the case in 2014 when we stayed in Fiesole above Florence. Because traffic and parking in Florence are challenging, on the day we encountered the Italian lady we would eventually befriend, we decided instead to take the bus to access the downtown tourist attractions. After a day of touring, my wife and I were trying to ascertain where the bus headed towards Fiesole departed. Spotting our confusion, a friendly stranger, Giuditta Melli, confirmed we were in the right place. She was headed home on the same bus and engaged us in conversation. Obviously, a regular on the bus, she knew all the other riders. She pointed out her villa before getting off the bus. 

Prior to separating, Giuditta invited us to visit the pottery shop where she then worked. (Figure 4) The memories of that day are vivid. When we stopped by two days later, Giuditta spotted us from inside the shop and came rushing out to welcome us. She gave us a tour of the workshop, and while Ann was separately speaking with Giuditta, I was watching Romano, the master potter, at work. The next thing I knew Giuditta was standing in front of me with tears running down her face. I couldn’t imagine what had caused her distress. It turns out my wife had told Giuditta the purpose of our 13-week trip in Europe and had explained that my Jewish aunt murdered in Auschwitz and my uncle had once lived in the Villa Primavera in Fiesole, which as it turns out is only five minutes by car from Giuditta’s home. The source of Giuditta’s anguish was the fact that her Jewish great uncle Carlo Melli (Figure 5) who owned the villa where she now lives was also murdered in the Holocaust, deported to Buchenwald from the concentration camp at Fossoli near Modena, Italy in 1942. My aunt was also arrested in 1942 by the Vichy French in the small town of Fayence, France and deported to Auschwitz via the assembly point of the Drancy internment camp outside Paris. Our common histories provided an immediate bond.

 

Figure 4. In 2014, our friend Giuditta Melli standing alongside Romano, the master potter, in the pottery shop where she then worked

 

Figure 5. Giuditta’s great uncle Carlo Melli (left) and grandfather with Giuditta’s mother in Livorno

 

The Villa Primavera (Figures 6-7) is located on the street known as Via del Salviatino (Figure 8), which transects and straddles both Fiesole and Florence. (Figure 9) When initially in search of the house, this caused some confusion as Via del Salviatino 14, the former address of the villa, has identically numbered homes on this same avenue only a short distance apart in Fiesole and Florence.

 

Figure 6. Historic postcard of the Villa Primavera

 

Figure 7. My father’s photo of the Villa Primavera taken in 1938

 

Figure 8. Via del Salviatino, the street along which the Villa Primavera is located

 

Figure 9. The Via del Salviatino transects Fiesole and Firenze (Florence)

 

At the time my aunt and uncle lived there, the villa was owned by a Dr. Gino Frascani, an obstetrician/gynecologist, a truly remarkable man who will in the next month be recognized for his civic contributions. He used family money to build a hospital clinic on the Florence portion of Via del Salviatino, the “Istituto di Cura del Salviatino” (Figure 10), located just down the road from the Villa Primavera, where he even maintained beds in the common infirmary for “charity.” The Istituto still stands today, regrettably no longer as a hospital, but rather as exclusive condominiums. Dr. Frascani owned multiple properties at the time, and while the Frascani family still owns properties along Via del Salviatino, I later learned they no longer own the Villa Primavera.

 

Figure 10. Historic postcard of the Dr. Gino Frascani’s “Istituto di Cura del Salviatino”

 

Having realized we’d located Via del Salviatino 14 in Florence rather than Fiesole, we quickly found the correct address. As I explained in Post 21, at the entrance to the driveway with house numbers 12, 14, and 14a, was one mailbox with the name “R. Frascani.” Logically, we concluded this was a descendant of Dr. Frascani who resided in the Villa Primavera, erroneously so. Only later did we learn that R. Frascani, “R.”for Ranieri, lives in Via del Salviatino 12, ergo not in the Villa Primavera. We drove up the dirt road to Frascani’s residence, which we discovered was a bed-and-breakfast, and rang the bell. No one answered but, as luck would have it, one of Ranieri’s friends passed by as we were seeking entry and phoned him. Since Ranieri speaks no English, we quickly agreed I would contact him by email upon my return stateside. Regardless, it would be another year before we met in person and got answers to some of my questions. 

This initial contact established the basis for our subsequent visit to Fiesole in 2015, when we met Ranieri and his mother, Ms. Maria Agata Frascani, née Mannelli, respectively, Dr. Gino Frascani’s grandson and daughter-in-law. In 2015, Giuditta invited us to stay in her villa. She arranged and served as translator for our meet up. During this get-together Ranieri confirmed the villa he lives in is not the Villa Primavera. Sometime during the 1940s, houses along Via del Salviatino were renumbered and the Villa Primavera reassigned the number “16.” While the back of the Villa Primavera is visible from his home, the family no longer owns it, as previously noted. Unfortunately, neither Ranieri nor his mother could gain us access to their former property. 

While we failed for the second year running to tour the villa, Ms. Frascani took us to her home. (Figure 11) There she showed us an invaluable historical treasure, a thick album with photos, articles, and personal documents related to the construction and opening of Dr. Frascani’s “Istituto di Cura Chirurgica del Salviatino” in 1908-09. (Figure 12) It’s my great hope this is eventually donated to the Archivio Comunale Di Fiesole.

 

Figure 11. Name plate on Dr. Gino Frascani’s house at Via del Salviatino 18 in Fiesole, where his daughter-in-law, Ms. Maria Agatha Frascani, now lives

 

Figure 12. Album of photos, documents, letters, etc. collected by Dr. Gino Frascani related to the construction of his “Istituto di Cura del Salviatino” in 1908-09

 

Let me tell readers what I was able to learn from the roughly two-and-a-half-year period between 1936 and 1938 that my aunt and uncle lived at the Villa Primavera. My aunt ran the large home as a bed-and-breakfast in partnership with a Jewish lady of Austrian extraction, Ms. Lucia von Jacobi (Figures 13-14), whom she may have known from Berlin or met in Fiesole, perhaps through Dr. Frascani.

 

Figure 13. Lucia von Jacobi in 1936 or 1937

 

Figure 14. Lucia von Jacobi with my uncle, Dr. Franz Müller at the Villa Primavera

 

Ms. Lucia Nadetti, a retired archivist at the Archivio Comunale Di Fiesole, with whom I’m still in touch and consider a friend, took an avid interest in my research when we first met in 2014. (Figure 15) She scoured the archives and uncovered documentary evidence related to the period that the villa was run as a guest house, most significantly, so-called “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia,” “Stay of Foreigners in Italy” forms. Italy required completion of these forms during the Fascist era, which lasted from 1922 to 1943.

 

Figure 15. In 2014, Ms. Lucia Nadetti, former archivist at the “Archivio Comunale Di Fiesole”

 

The mandatory forms were submitted to the local Municipio, City Hall, to document personal details, accommodation, length of stay, and the purpose of the visit. A local resident, my uncle in the case of guests staying at the Villa Primavera, would have to appear at the Municipio and certify that the foreigner was indeed lodging there. While highly intrusive in terms of the personal information collected, from a genealogical standpoint the details are unparalleled. Guests were required to provide the names of both parents, including the mother’s maiden name, plus their date and place of birth. Based on a separate historic register listing all visitors to the Villa Primavera, the “Soggiorno” forms exist only for those guests who stayed at the villa between 1937 and 1938; those that have survived are very instructive. In Post 35, I discussed the names and fates, where I could determine them, of the villa’s many lodgers. 

Let me turn now to our subsequent unsuccessful attempt in 2016 to visit the Villa Primavera. 

Like the Fiesole archivist Lucia Nadetti who’d taken a personal interest in my quest for documentary evidence of my ancestors’ passage through Fiesole, our friend Giuditta Melli continued to seek out additional information about the Villa Primavera. Following our visit to Fiesole in 2015, Giudutta announced she’d stumbled upon a full-length book about Lucia von Jacobi, my aunt Suzanne’s partner in managing the Villa Primavera as a bed-and-breakfast. It had been written by a German professor, Dr. Irene Below (Figure 16), from Werther, Germany, whom Giuditta immediately contacted. Giudutta related an extraordinary story based on her conversation with Dr. Below.

 

Figure 16. In October 2016, Dr. Irene Below at Parco di Monte Ceceri, Florence

 

As I described in Post 21: “Dr. Below was surprised to hear from Giuditta and curious to learn of her interest in people Irene had studied and knew about. Dr. Below related a fascinating tale. She came to Firenze in 1964 as a student intending to write about the history of art. While researching this topic, however, she came across magazines and diaries of an unknown person who turned out to be Lucia von Jacobi, a woman with very famous friends (e.g., Heinrich and Thomas Mann, Gustaf Gründgens, etc.), and decided instead to write about her. Then, amazingly, in 1966, Dr. Below walked into an antiquarian shop in Firenze and discovered the bulk of Ms. Jacobi’s personal papers, which she soon purchased with her parents’ financial assistance. 

As an additional footnote, Irene’s acquisition of Lucia von Jacobi’s papers was timely. In November 1966, Florence experienced the worst floods in living memory, reaching unheard of heights of 6.7 meters, 22 feet!! The antiquarian shop from which Dr. Below purchased Lucia von Jacobi’s papers was destroyed and everything swept away, a fate that would no doubt have befallen Lucia’s records had Irene not purchased them. 

According to the papers that Irene Below was able to retrieve from the antiquarian shop, Lucia spent three months in Palestine in 1938, likely shortly after Mussolini’s embrace of the “Manifesto of the Racial Scientists” on July 14, 1938. Following Ms. Jacobi’s return from Palestine, she was constantly being watched and her mail monitored by the local Questura, that’s to say, the police in the province of Florence. Afraid of being arrested, Lucia escaped to Switzerland in October 1938, forced to leave all her possessions behind. Dr. Below surmises her belongings remained in the Villa Primavera until Dr. Frascani’s heirs sold the home, whereupon they were donated or sold to the antiquarian shop where Irene discovered them. 

After contacting Irene Below following our 2015 visit, Giuditta invited all of us to gather at her house in 2016 with the idea of meeting and together visiting the Villa Primavera. In anticipation of this get-together, I wrote letters to the various residents including my father’s 1938 photos taken there, asking whether it would be possible to visit. This is a strategy I’ve employed with mixed results over the years. Regrettably, I received nary a single response. While I even asked Lucia Nadetti to intercede, she too was unable to get us an invitation. I realized after our 2016 trip to Fiesole that I was unlikely to see the grounds nor the interior of the Villa Primavera. While I can be very persistent, one must also know when to “give up the ghost.” So, I did. 

My wife and I have continued to remain in contact with Giuditta Melli. In May 2023, she told me about a meeting she’d recently had with Daniel Ratthei, an author from Cottbus, Germany, that included the grandchildren of a woman named Lina Friederike Prinz, née Meyer who, like my aunt and uncle, lived in Fiesole-Florence between 1935 and 1939. 

Daniel Ratthei is researching and writing about a German professor named Arno Fritz Kurt Schirokauer (1899-1954), born in Cottbus, where Daniel hails from. According to Daniel, the Schirokauer and Prinz families knew each other well, as probably did most German emigrants in Fiesole. Among the places where the divorced Lina Prinz lived with her children, Rolf and Renate (Figure 17), was none other than the Villa Primavera!

 

Figure 17. Renate and Rolf Prinz as children in either Florence or Fiesole in 1937; Rolf’s two children, Jane and Peter Prince (their surname was anglicized) from New Zealand, met Giuditta and Daniel Ratthei in Florence-Fiesole in 2023

 

The Schirokauers did not stay at the Villa Primavera but were lodging in another pension in Fiesole called “Il Poderino”; the villas are close to one another. Interestingly, Il Poderino is a guest house that Lucia von Jacobi first ran with a Carlotta Münz until the two had a falling out, and Lucia opened the Villa Primavera with my aunt. 

In any case, in writing the current post, I turned to Google to refresh my memory about Arno Schirokauer. In doing so, I realized or reminded myself of something I’d forgotten, namely, that Arno was best known for his biography about Ferdinand Lassalle (1825-1864). 

While not a household name to most readers, Lassalle was familiar to me for reasons I will explain. He was an extremely well-known German jurist, philosopher, and socialist activist. He is best known as an initiator of the social democratic movement in Germany who in 1863 founded the General German Workers’ Association, the first independent German workers’ party. However, what makes him memorable to me is that he is buried in the Stary Cmentarz Żydowski we Wrocławiu, the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław, Poland (formerly Breslau, Germany). 

Coincidentally, this historic necropolis-museum is where some of my Bruck relatives are interred, mostly notably, Julius Bruck (1840-1902), inventor of the stomatoscope, whom I discussed in Post 68 and Post 68, Postscript. I have visited the necropolis on three previous occasions and am very good friends with the Branch Manager of the museum, Dr. Renata Wilkoszewska-Krakowska. 

Also, in conjunction with a translation that my English cousin, Helen Winter, née Renshaw, is currently undertaking of a diary written by another Bruck ancestor from Breslau (Wrocław), Bertha Jacobson, née Bruck (1873-1957), Lassalle’s name is mentioned. For this reason, on the 160th anniversary of Ferdinand Lassalle’s death in 2024, when the Old Jewish Cemetery held a ceremony attended by many government officials, Renata sent me a photo of Lassalle’s grave. (Figure 18)

 

Figure 18. Ferdinand Lassalle’s headstone in the Old Jewish Cemetery in Wrocław, Poland, the same necropolis where a few of my distinguished Bruck ancestors are also interred

 

I don’t expect readers to fully appreciate this, and I don’t mean to talk down to readers, but one of the silent pleasures I derive from my blog is occasionally stumbling on unexpected connections. Consider for a moment, I was discussing Florence, Italy, and in the next instance, I’ve transitioned to discussing Ferdinand Lassalle buried in Wrocław, Poland because of his biographer’s (Arno Schirokauer) connection to Cottbus, Germany and brief association with Florence and Fiesole. Add to this, the incidental connection to Lina Prinz who stayed at the Villa Primavera when my aunt and uncle lived there. Making these connections reminds me of the old TV game show, “Concentration.” 

I apologize to readers because I have seriously digressed which I regret to inform you will continue for a bit longer. My wife and I recently returned from a 13-day trip to Paris and Florence-Fiesole. Our journey to Paris was related to the three Fédor Löwenstein paintings I retrieved in September 2025 discussed in Post 189, which I’ve agreed to loan to two or three French museums for exhibitions over the next few years. The first of these is ongoing now at the musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme, mahJ, at which I was asked to participate in a round table discussion. 

Knowing we would be in Paris and curious to meet Daniel Ratthei in Florence and reunite with Giuditta after ten years, my wife and I decided to fly there. I retained an unrealistic hope that Giuditta and/or Lucia might facilitate our entry into the Villa Primavera. While Daniel was unable to meet us in Florence on account of previous commitments, Giuditta found an unlikely connection that after 12 years allowed us to finally tour the Villa Primavera. Learning this left me giddy with excitement! 

Let me explain. Giuditta is currently in the process of selling her villa. In chatting with her realtor, Giuditta let on she’d been trying for years to gain access to the Villa Primavera. During this exchange, Giuditta’s realtor told her that she knows Ms. Barbara Anzilotti (Figure 19), the owner of the top floor, and offered to put her in touch. Barbara is the person who reached out to her neighbors who own the bottom two levels, Elad and Vered Tzur, the Jewish couple who graciously invited us to visit. (Figure 20) I find it noteworthy that the Villa Primavera is again occupied by a Jewish family.

 

Figure 19. Me standing between Ms. Barbara Anzilotti and Giuditta in front of the backside of the Villa Primavera

 

 

Figure 20. Inside their home, current owners of the Villa Primavera, Vered and Elad Tzur holding their youngest child, Shimon, alongside me

 

Our visit took place on February 24, 2026. We learned that at the time my aunt and uncle lived in the Villa Primavera, the top floor owned by Barbara did not exist; it was added by the previous owner, then sold as a separate unit. The previous owner also completely redesigned the bottom floors of the house. Elad and Vered, who emigrated from Israel, have only owned the house for about a year, and live there with their five children. 

My father only stayed at the Villa Primavera twice, both times in 1938, and his pictures exclusively show the exterior of the home. Comparing my father’s photos with the current layout of the exterior, shows it is remarkably unchanged. Vered and I enthusiastically got into re-creating my father’s pictures from the same vantage point he’d taken them. (Figures 21a-b; 22a-b; 23a-b; 24) This was great fun!

 

Figure 21a. My father standing on the steps in front of the Villa Primavera in September 1938

 

Figure 21b. Me on August 24, 2026, standing on the steps in the same place as my father stood in 1938

 

Figure 22a. My father seated in front of the Villa Primavera in May 1938; note the planter on the house wall on the left side of the picture

 

Figure 22b. Me seated with my father’s pictures in hand at the same place he sat in May 1938; note the planter on the wall

 

Figure 23a. My father seated at an outdoor table in front of the Villa Primavera in May 1938 with his sister (opposite him) and two of his cousins; note the vertical pole behind his sister’s head

 

Figure 23b. Me on February 24, 2026, in front of the Villa Primavera with my hand on the vertical pole seen in Figure 23a

 

Figure 24. Me standing between my wife Ann and Giuditta in front of the Villa Primavera in February 2026

 

To again walk in my aunt, uncle, and father’s footsteps was special. How they would feel about my genealogical endeavors is unanswerable, particularly as it relates to my father since the only family he ever spoke about ruefully was his beloved sister Suzanne. However, given that the Villa Primavera is a place associated with his sister and a place my father visited, I imagine he would be intrigued that I visited the home. 

Recall from above that using the surviving “Soggiorno degli Stranieri in Italia” forms, in Post 35 I detailed the fates of the villa’s guests. One of those guests was a woman named Maria Donath, née Czamska (I’ve come across various spelling of her maiden name, including “Czamsky”, “Camsky”). (Figure 25) She was married to Ludwig Donath who was known for character roles in films, TV, and on stage. (Figure 26)

 

Figure 25. One of the Villa Primavera’s guests, Maria Donath’s 1940 “Declaration of Intention” to become an American citizen

 

Figure 26. Another of the Villa Primavera’s guests, Ludwig Donath, Maria Donath’s husband’s 1940 “Declaration of Intention” to become an American citizen

 

I was recently contacted by Mr. Alexander Schilling, Head of production of Heidelberger Schlossfestspiele. This is a theatre festival in Germany, and the best-known and most-attended open-air theater plays in the Northern Baden Region. Alex explained that for an upcoming exhibition about the history of the Heidelberger Schlossfestspiele, founded in 1926, he is researching biographies of cast members from the 1920s who fled Germany after 1933 on account of political or racial persecution. And Maria Czamska-Donath was one of those members. 

In Post 35, I wrote that Maria died in Vienna in 1974, erroneously as it happens. Alex asked for the source of this information, and, while dubious I could retrace my steps, I rediscovered I’d found it in ancestry.com’s link to Find A Grave. Maria’s married name “Donath” is apparently common even today in Vienna and it seems I mistook the Maria Donath in the Vienna Friedhof for Maria Czamska. Based on information Alex obtained from more reliable sources, Maria apparently died on the 13th of August 1967 in Munich. I am always grateful when readers take the time to research and correct misinformation I’ve inadvertently introduced into my post. 

In closing, I want again to acknowledge and thank our good friend Giuditta Melli for persisting in finding a way to help us enter the Villa Primavera in Fiesole. Thanks to a chance encounter at a bus stop in 2014 this would never have happened. Given my family’s association with the Villa Primavera, a brief period of calm before the cataclysmic events of the Holocaust ensnared my family, I’m eternally grateful to Giuditta as well as Elad and Vered for having made this visit possible. Fiesole is a special place, a place my aunt and uncle certainly embraced and where they would permanently have settled had circumstances turned out differently.

POST 198: ITALIAN OCCUPATION OF SOUTHEASTERN FRANCE DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: IMPACT ON JEWISH PEOPLE, INCLUDING MY FAMILY

Note: In this post, I discuss the two periods of Fascist Italy’s occupation of southeastern France during the Second World War. While not philanthropic towards Jews, Mussolini did not share Hitler’s views on the “Jewish problem,” possibly influenced by his Jewish mistress. Many French Jews flocked to the Italian-occupied part of France providing some enough time to survive until the area was liberated by the Allies in August 1944. Among the survivors were members of my family. 

Related Post:

POST 189: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025

Over the years I’ve come across references that the southeastern part of France was occupied by the Italians during the Second World War. This is a topic that’s always fascinated me because it includes Nice along France’s Côte d’Azur, a city with close connections to both sides of my family. It’s been an enduring mystery how a few of my Jewish relatives survived there when the Nazi onslaught exterminated or scattered most of them elsewhere in Europe. 

Nice is where my parents met, and where my mother lived with her mother following her parents’ divorce. Also, my father’s aunt Hedwig Löwenstein, née Bruck, and two of her three children lived permanently or temporarily in Nice during the war. (Figure 1) After leaving Germany in early 1938, Nice is where my father went trying unsuccessfully to obtain a permit to work in France as a dentist. Following my father’s two-and-a-half years of military service in the Royal Pioneer Corps after five years in the French Foreign Legion, he returned to Nice to resume his dental career. (Figure 2) Here is where he was arrested for practicing illegally as a “stateless” person before decamping to America, sadly never again to practice dentistry. Nice is where my parents would regularly vacation, and where my maternal grandmother lived and where I spent multiple summers as a child. It’s a place that holds bittersweet memories for me and my family.

 

Figure 1. March 1946 photo of Fédor Löwenstein (seated) with his sister Hansi, his brother Heinz, and his mother Hedwig in Nice, France

 

 

Figure 2. My father Dr. Otto Bruck in October 1941 along the Mediterranean Sea when he was living in Nice and practicing dentistry “illegally”

 

Two of Hedwig’s children, Fédor and Heinz Löwenstein, have been the subject of multiple earlier posts. To remind readers, Fédor Löwenstein (1901-1946) was my father’s first cousin; he was the artist of the three paintings that were confiscated by the Nazis at the Port of Bordeaux in December 1940 that I retrieved in September 2025 from the French Ministry of Culture after an eleven-year legal tussle. (see Post 189) Nice is where Fedor returned to from Paris and Mirmande after becoming sick with a then-undiagnosed disease. He died there at 45 years of age of Hodgkin lymphoma and was buried in the Cimetière de Caucade in Nice. And I’ve often written about Fédor’s younger brother, Heinz Löwenstein, because of his fascinating wartime escapades. The third sibling, Jeanne “Hansi” Goff, née Löwenstein, is the cousin with whom my father was closest to and advised my father to join the French Foreign Legion in 1938, following my father’s flight from Germany. After emigrating with her mother and siblings from the Free City of Danzig in what I estimate was the early 1930s, Hansi settled in Nice and lived there for the remainder of her life. 

Because none of my Jewish relatives were deported from Nice during the war, I researched the history of the Italian occupation of France seeking an answer. Like many things that took place during the Second World War, the explanation is often rooted in historical events that took place before the war, sometimes many years before. 

During the Second World War, southeastern France experienced two distinct periods of occupation by Fascist Italy. (Figure 3) The first occurred when Benito Mussolini invaded France on June 10, 1940. This incursion followed closely on the heels of the invasion of France by Italy’s Axis ally Germany on May 10, 1940, initiating the “Battle of France.” Using blietzkrieg tactics, German forces broke through Allied lines, captured Paris on June 14, 1940, and forced an armistice on France on June 22, 1940, effectively defeating them in just over six weeks.

 

 

Figure 3. Map of the occupation zones of France during the Second World War including the two areas in the southeastern part of the country occupied by Fascist Italy

 

Italy’s June 1940 invasion had limited success even though their occupational army of 700,000 troops significantly outnumbered the French. The Italians faced numerous challenges, including inadequately light tanks, a lack of artillery and motor transport, and ill-preparedness for the cold Alpine climate. The French had established substantial fortifications along the Alpine Line, referred to as the “Little Maginot.” Nonetheless, following France’s rout at the hands of the Germans and their surrender, the French were forced to sign the Franco-Italian Armistice on June 24, 1940, two days after the cessation of hostilities, agreeing upon an Italian zone of occupation. 

As a result of this armistice with the Italians, the French relinquished 831 square kilometers (321 square miles) in southeastern France. (Figures 3-4) This Italian-controlled zone, which included between 28,000 and 30,000 French citizens, was officially annexed to the Kingdom of Italy. The largest town contained within the initial Italian zone of occupation was Menton. The main cities inside the larger “demilitarized zone” of 50km (31 miles) from the border with the Italian Alpine Wall were Nice and Grenoble, although, unlike Menton, neither was annexed to the Kingdom of Italy though that was the plan had the Axis powers won the Second World War.

 

 

Figure 4. A closeup of southeastern France showing the areas occupied by Fascist Italy during two periods of the Second World War

 

The second Italian occupation of southeastern France took place in November 1942 in conjunction with Case Anton, the German occupation of Vichy France. To remind readers, Vichy France was the so-called puppet and collaborationist government in southern France in the “zone libre” (free zone) that had between created by the June 1940 armistice between Germany and France. 

Readers may wonder, as I did, what suddenly precipitated the German occupation of Vichy France in November 1942. Case Anton was primarily triggered by the Allied invasion of North Africa during Operation Torch on November 8, 1942. Hitler ordered the occupation of the “zone libre” to prevent an Allied landing in southern France and to secure Mediterranean coastal defenses. Basically, the successful Allied landings in French North Africa convinced Hitler that the Vichy regime could no longer protect its territory, forcing Germany to take direct control of the “zone libre.” A critical part of German motivation to occupy Vichy was also to seize the French Navy fleet anchored in Toulon. To prevent this, the French soldiers successfully scuttled most of their ships on November 27, 1942, rendering them useless to the Axis powers. 

The November 1942 German occupation of Vichy France resulted in an expansion of Italy’s occupation zone in southeastern France. (see Figure 4) Italian forces took control of Toulon and all of Provence up to the river Rhone; the island of Corsica was claimed by the so-called Italian irredentists (more on this below). Nice and Corsica were to be annexed to Italy in accordance with the aspirations of these Italian irredentists, an action that never took place because of the Italian armistice in September 1943, following Italy’s defeat at the hands of the Allied forces.

Let me briefly explain Italian irredentism. The term originated from Italia irredenta (“unredeemed Italy”), referring to lands with Italian populations left outside the Kingdom of Italy following its unification between 1860 and 1870. Irredentism was the movement to annex territory considered culturally or historically Italian, such as Istria and Dalmatia. Istria is the largest peninsula in the northern Adriatic Sea, the majority of which now belongs to Croatia. (Figure 5) It also includes the historic region of Dalmatia, also primarily within modern-day Croatia, with a small portion of Montenegro, located on the eastern coast of the Adriatic Sea. Significantly, for the purposes of this post and its impact on Jewish people during the Second World War, Italia irredenta included Nice. Italian irredentism in Nice was the political movement supporting the annexation of the County of Nice to the Kingdom of Italy.

 

 

Figure 5. Map of the territories claimed by the proponents of a “Greater Italy”

 

Readers are likely wondering what gave rise to Italian irredentism and the aspirations of their supporters that they were entitled to annex Nice. As I alluded to above, some events that took place during the Second World War have their roots earlier in history. During the Italian unification, in 1860, the House of Savoy, a noble and royal dynasty between France and Italy, allowed the Second French Empire, the government of France from 1852 to 1870, to annex Nice from the Kingdom of Sardinia in exchange for French support of its quest to unify Italy. As a result, the Nicois were excluded from the Italian unification movement, and the region has since become primarily French-speaking. 

Discontent over annexation to France led to the emigration of a large part of the Italophile population; more than 10,000 people, a quarter of the population in Nice, voluntarily left for Italy. This emigration of Nicard Italians to Italy took the name of the “Nicard exodus.” Many Italians from Nizza moved to towns in Liguria, a crescent-shaped region in nearby northwestern Italy, known as the Italian Riviera. This gave rise to a local branch of the movement of Italian irredentists which considered the reacquisition of Nice to be one of their nationalist goals. 

In support of the Italian irredentists, Benito Mussolini considered the annexation of Nice to be one of his main targets. Following the armistice between Italy and France in June 1940, the County of Nice was occupied by the Italian army and the newspaper Il Nizzardo (“The Nicard”) was restored there. It was directed by Ezio Garibaldi, the grandson of Giuseppe Garibaldi (1807-1882). For those unfamiliar with the elder Garibaldi, he was a charismatic Italian general, patriot, and revolutionary, who played a crucial role in unifying Italy. Born in Nice, he was vehemently opposed to the cession of his hometown to France. 

Having strayed some to explain the geopolitical basis for Italy’s historic connection to Nice, let me share one intriguing thing I learned while researching the extent of Italian occupation of southeastern France following German’s occupation of the “zone libre.” This is personally intriguing because I’ve been a philatelist, a stamp collector, much of my life. As I noted above, following Case Anton Italian forces took control of Toulon and all of Provence up to the Rhône River as well as the island of Corsica. I quote from an entry on Wikipedia on the “Italian Occupation of France”: 

The area of southeast France actually occupied by the Italians has been disputed. A study of the postal history of the region has cast new light on the part of France controlled by the Italians and Germans (Trapnell, 2014). By studying mail that had been censored by the occupying power, this study showed that the Italians occupied the eastern part up to a ‘line’ joining Toulon-Gap-Grenoble-Chambery-Annecy-Geneva. Places occupied by the Italians west of this were few or transitory.” 

Thus, the line connecting these cities marks the boundary that separated the Italian-occupied eastern zone from the German-occupied western area. The line roughly follows a north-south axis through the French Alps and Provence, extending from the Italian border westward to the Rhône Valley corridor. Figure 6 (Figure) indicates the Italian-occupied part of France between November 1942 and September 1943 extended all the way to the Rhone River, although philatelic evidence suggests otherwise, namely, that the line was further to the east. (see the red line on Figure 6)

 

 

Figure 6. Map of southeastern France showing the putative area Fascist Italy controlled extending to the Rhône Valley corridor versus the actual area they controlled indicated by the red line; proof of this comes from letters censored by occupying forces, in other words philatelic evidence

 

So much for the background. Let me move now to the question of how the Italian occupation of southeastern France affected Jews. 

The Italian occupation government was far less severe than that of Vichy France. After France’s fall in June 1940, Nice was in the “demilitarized zone” of France which as mentioned above extended 50km from the Italian Alpine Wall. It provided a safe haven for Jewish refugees from Vichy’s anti-Jewish laws. Also, as mentioned, after the Allies invaded North Africa in 1942, the Germans invaded the “zone libre” of southern France in November 1942. This caused many thousands of Jews to seek refuge in the Italian-occupied zone of France between November 1942 and September 1943, as Italian authorities refused to deport them and often shielded them from Nazi. Exact numbers vary but it is estimated that nearly 80 percent of the remaining 300,000 French Jews took refuge in the Italian-occupied zone, saving many thousands from deportation. 

Though Mussolini was far from altruistic, he refrained from collaborating with Vichy and refused to persecute Jews or enforce yellow star badges. Mussolini did not share Hitler’s views on the “Jewish problem,” possibly influenced by his Jewish mistress, Margherita Sarfatti. 

Apparently, an Italian Jewish banker named Angelo Donati also played a vital role in convincing Italian civil and military authorities to protect Jews from French persecution in Nice. Curious about this, I happened upon a 2014 Bachelor’s Degree Thesis written by a Ms. Maria Teresa Nisticò from LUISS Guido Carli, a private university in Rome, explaining Angelo Donati’s role. 

Quoting: “Jewish are coming to Nice from everywhere: they know they have different perspective (sic) over there. In particular they have an important man, the Italian banker Angelo Donati, that devoted its (sic) life to realize the objective of saving all the Jewish that were living in Nice. He organized a committee that welcomed the Jewish arriving in Nice and helped them when Vichy officials were trying to arrest them. The main activity of such a committee was to create fake documents for the persecuted; documents where at least the word Jewish was absent. Donati was a (sic) honoured man: he played a decisive role in connecting the French and the Italian army during the First World War and he obtained the ‘Legion d’Honneur’ in France. Being smart, full of energy, without a Jewish surname and prestigious, neither Vichy nor Berlin were aware of its (sic) activity.” 

Once again, this speaks to the strength of individual courage and ingenuity in times of unspeakable horror. 

In any case, thanks to the fearlessness of people such as Angelo Donati, in January 1943, the Italians refused to cooperate with the Nazis in rounding up Jews in their occupied territory and even prevented German deportations from their zone in March. Although the Italians did not cooperate in deportations, they did intern some Jews in camps to keep them under surveillance; this had the effect of keeping many safe at least until the Italian surrender to the Allies in September 1943. This led the German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop complaining to Mussolini about Italian military circles’ insufficient understanding of the “Jewish question.” 

However, shortly after Italy signed the Armistice of Cassibile with the Allies on September 3, 1943, Nazi forces seized control of the Italian zone. The SS official responsible for Jewish affairs, Alois Brunner, Adolf Eichmann’s top aide, established his headquarters at the Hotel Excelsior several days later. This marked the start of a frightful crackdown on the Jewish population. SS officers systematically patrolled the city, arresting anyone who appeared Jewish, including those in mixed marriages, of certain nationalities, children, elderly, and invalid individuals. These individuals were interrogated at the Excelsior Hotel and subsequently deported to death camps from a nearby train station. The plaque today posted outside the hotel reads as follows: 

During the German occupation of Nice from September 1943 to August 1944, more than 3,000 Jews including 264 children were arrested in the Alpes-Maritimes, Basses-Alpes and the principality of Monaco and deported by the Gestapo in application of Nazi anti-Semitic ideology. 

Before being transferred by rail to the Drancy camp near Paris from where they were sent to the Auschwitz extermination camp, the victims had been interned in the Excelsior hotel, which became an annex to the Drancy camp and was requisitioned by the Germans because of its proximity to Nice station.” 

As a related side note, Alois Brunner, who it is estimated orchestrated the deportation of 23,500 Jews from France to death camps, remained one of the top Nazis who evaded capture after the war. He lived freely and reportedly passed away in Damascus around 2010. 

So much for the lengthy discussion on the geopolitical situation in southeastern France during the periods of Italian occupation of the area during the Second World War. 

Nice was liberated from Nazi occupation on August 28, 1944, meaning that from roughly September 3, 1943, signing date of the “Armistice of Cassibile,” onwards until almost the end of August 1944, Nice and other previously Italian-occupied parts of France were controlled by the Nazis. How my Jewish relatives survived in Nice under Nazi rule for almost a year remains an enduring mystery. 

Let me briefly talk about my father’s beloved sister, Suzanne Müller, née Bruck (1904-1942), who did not survive the Holocaust. She and her husband, Dr. Franz Müller (1871-1945), were caught up in the expulsion of non-Italian Jews from Italy in September-October 1938. My aunt’s husband, 33 years older than her had two children from his first marriage. His married daughter, roughly the same age as my aunt, had a brother-in-law who owned a fruit farm in a small town in Fayence, France in the Var Department. When my aunt and uncle left Fiesole, Italy in 1938, they immigrated there. My aunt and the owner of fruit farm were arrested by the Vichy French on August 24, 1942, and murdered in Auschwitz. While I’m always hesitant to engage in “what ifs,” I wonder whether they might have survived had they relocated to Nice in the Italian-occupied part of France, roughly 42 miles east? (Figure 7)

 

Figure 7. Map showing the distance from Fayence, France, where my aunt was arrested on August 24, 1942 by the Vichy French, to Nice 

 

One final thing before I conclude this post. My wife and I just returned from Paris where the three surviving artworks painted by Fedor Loewenstein, my father’s first cousin, confiscated by the Nazis in December 1940, that are now in my possession are on display at the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire du Judaïsme (MAHJ) to whom I’ve loaned them. In connection with interpretive materials developed for this exhibit, I learned about the so-called Vel’ d’Hiv roundup. This was a mass arrest of more than 13,000 Jews that took place in Paris on 16-17 July 1942, by the Vichy French police at the behest of the German occupational authorities. This was roughly a month before my aunt Suzanne was arrested in the “zone libre” of France also by the Vichy French. While I can pretend to understand how the Vichy French would collaborate in the area they had administrative control over, I was flummoxed to learn they would also assist the Nazis in areas they did not administratively control. 

This speaks to the true extent of French collaboration with the Nazis in the extermination of Jewish people during the Second World War. On a more personal level, it speaks to the complex relationship my family has with France, a legacy that transcends the tragedy that befell my own aunt. In a few years after I’m done loaning the three Fédor Löwenstein paintings now in my possession to various French museums, I will be forced to confront this dark history in deciding what to do with the artworks, whether to donate them to a French museum or bring them to the United States where Fédor wanted them to come in 1940. 

REFERENCES 

Byron, H. (2024, January 19). The French Riviera under Italian Rule During WW2. Heroine Journey Fiction.

The French Riviera under Italian Rule during WW2 — HANNAH BYRON

“Italian occupation of France.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation,

Italian occupation of France – Wikipedia

“Italian irredentism.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 1 March 2026.

Italian irredentism – Wikipedia

“Italian irredentism in Nice.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 8 November 2025.

Italian irredentism in Nice – Wikipedia

Nistico, M. T. (2013/2014). Beyond GDP: exploring models and indicators of well-being. [Bachelor’s Degree Thesis, LUISS Guido Carli]. Bachelor’s Degree Program>Bachelor’s Degree Program in Political Science.

frajese-mariapaola-sintesi-2014.pdf

POST 197: THE HISTORY OF FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S SURVIVING CONFISCATED PAINTINGS

Note: Following the restitution of Fédor Löwenstein’s three surviving Nazi-confiscated paintings to me, the Centre Pompidou’s Musee National d’Art Moderne (MNAM) sent me a dossier with documents about their history. In this post, I highlight some of the findings about the paintings’ dramatic and involved past and explain how an archivist and curator discovered they were looted art. 

Related Posts: 

POST 105: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S NAZI-CONFISCATED ART: RESTITUTION DENIED 

POST 137: MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN: DISCOVERING HIS WHEREABOUTS DURING WORLD WAR II

POST 137, POSTSCRIPT-MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN, DISCOVERING HIS WHEREABOUTS DURING WWII—ADDITIONAL FINDINGS

POST 160: UPDATE ON COMPENSATION CLAIM AGAINST THE FRENCH MINISTRY OF CULTURE INVOLVING NAZI-CONFISCATED FAMILY ART 

POST 162: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S CORRESPONDENCE WITH MARCELLE RIVIER, HIS ONETIME GIRLFRIEND 

POST 163: THE WARTIME ESCAPADES OF HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN, FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S BROTHER 

POST 163, POSTSCRIPT: THE WARTIME ESCAPADES OF HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN, FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S BROTHER: FURTHER FINDINGS 

POST 181: JOE POWELL, ESCAPEE FROM A GERMAN STALAG WITH MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN 

POST 189: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025 

POST 189, POSTSCRIPT: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025 (CLARIFICATION) 

POST 194: BRINGING TOGETHER FORENSIC GENEALOGY & ARCHAEOLOGY TO THE STUDY OF MY FATHER’S FIRST COUSIN HEINZ LÖWENSTEIN’S ESCAPE FROM A GERMAN STALAG

 

Inasmuch as great art should ever belong to a single individual, the three paintings confiscated by the Nazis at the Port of Bordeaux on December 5, 1940, from my father’s first cousin Fédor Löwenstein that survived their destructive onslaught are now mine. In Post 189, I discussed the Restitution Ceremony that took place at the Centre Pompidou in Paris on September 16, 2025, where the formal turnover of the paintings took place, an event eleven years in the making. (Figure 1)

 

Figure 1. Mme. Christelle Creff, Head of the Museums of France Department, and me signing the “Discharge Agreement” handing over official title of Fédor Löwenstein’s three surviving paintings (photo credit: Damien Carles/SIPA Press)

 

Following the handover, Dr. Camille Morando, the person at the Centre Pompidou responsible for the documentation of the museum’s collections, sent me a digital file with documents detailing the history of the three paintings. Being a nerd for this type of information, I spent some time reviewing and making sense of it. Most of it is written in French, a language I’m reasonably fluent in. I thought I would share with readers insights and findings from the portfolio.

First, let me review some of what is known about Fédor Löwenstein. (Figure 2) Readers are referred to earlier posts for more detail. Though born in 1901 in Munich, Germany, he is typically referred as a Czechoslovakian artist because his father’s family hailed from there and he held Czechoslovak nationality. Since his two younger siblings were born in Danzig, Germany (today: Gdańsk, Poland), respectively, in 1902 and 1905, Fédor likely never lived in Czechoslovakia. Regardless, there is no question he felt an affinity for his father’s homeland.

 

Figure 2. The artist Fédor Löwenstein (1901-1946) (photo credit: Damien Carles/SIPA Press)

 

The Munich Agreement of 1938, a pact between Germany, Great Britain, France, and Italy, that allowed Germany to annex the Sudetenland, a German-speaking border region of Czechoslovakia, was intended to prevent a war. It failed. Following the pact, Fédor painted “La Chute,” The Fall (Figure 3), in the style of Picasso’s Guernica. This iconic work reflected his anguish at the betrayal of Czechoslovakia.

 

Figure 3. Fédor Löwenstein’s painting “La Chute” (The Fall), marking the dismantling of Czechoslovakia because of the Munich Agreement

 

Fédor studied at “L’ecole des arts decoratif de Berlin” (School of Decorative Arts in Berlin) then at “l’Academie des Beaux-Arts de Dresde” (Academy of Fine Arts in Dresden). In 1923 he moved to France where he spent the remainder of his life. Fédor Löwenstein was one of many Czechoslovak artists who lived and worked in Paris during what was known as the First Czechoslovak Republic that existed from 1918 to 1938. 

Following his arrival in Paris, Fédor started exhibiting at the Autumn Salon in the mid-1920s, first under the name of Fédor Lovest, of Czech nationality, then later as Fédor Loevenstein of Czechoslovakia. He mostly exhibited still lifes, though in 1927 and 1933, he added paintings of nudes. 

The fact that Fédor painted nudes is personally intriguing. Let me explain. Between the 1950s and 1980s, my parents would regularly visit Nice, France, where Fédor Löwenstein died in 1946, but where Fédor’s younger sister, Jeanne “Hansi” Goff, née Löwenstein, lived until her death in 1986. (Figure 4) During one of those visits, Hansi gave my father a pastel of a nude that to this day hangs in my mother’s bedroom. The work is framed so the signature is concealed, but it is logical to consider it might have been drawn by Fédor. One day, I intend to find out.

 

Figure 4. My parents visiting Fédor Löwenstein’s sister, Hansi Goff, née Löwenstein, in her apartment in Nice, France in October 1981

 

With his closest friends among the Czechoslovak artists, he regularly displayed his paintings between 1936-1938 with this group. His French friends included Robert and Sonia Delaunay, as well as students from the circle of his mentor André Lhote. Lhote ran a summer art academy in the medieval hilltop village of Mirmande in the Drôme department of southeastern France, where Fedor spent time in 1935 and 1938, then again later as discussed below. 

The Nazis captured France in about six weeks (10 May- 25 June 1940) during the Battle of France, starting with the invasion on May 10, 1940, and culminating with the fall of Paris on June 14. This was followed by the signing of an armistice on June 22, 1940, which effectively divided and occupied the country. This resulted in the establishment in the south of the so-called “Free Zone,” the collaborationist Vichy French government led by Marshal Philippe Petain. 

Shortly before the occupation of Paris, on the advice of Marcelle Rivier, one of Lhote’s students since 1928 and later Fédor’s lover (Figure 5), he relocated to Mirmande in the Free Zone. However, before leaving, Fédor made a final attempt to ship twenty-five of his canvases by boat from the Port of Bordeaux. They were destined for an exhibition at the Nierendorf Gallery in New York. They never made it there as I’ll explain.

 

Figure 5. Marcelle Rivier and Fédor Löwenstein with Fédor’s mother, my great-aunt Hedwig Löwenstein, née Bruck

 

Fédor’s works are characterized as a blend of Cubism and abstract art. A 2014 catalog accompanying an exhibition in Bordeaux of three of his surviving works ponders the question whether the ongoing war was responsible for the evolution of Fédor’s painting style or whether the war accelerated a development already in process. Regardless, two of Löwenstein’s supporters from the Paris art scene, Robert Delaunay and André Lhote, are quoted in “Ce Soir” in 1937 characterizing him as “one of the most inspiring abstract painters.” (Pravdova 2016: p. 60, footnote 6) 

In Mirmande Fédor continued working in difficult conditions. Then, on November 11, 1942, German troops occupied Vichy France in Operation Case Anton. No longer safe in Mirmande, in early 1943, disguised as a peasant woman and with the help of Marcelle Rivier and other members of the French Resistance, he was taken to Notre-Dame d’Aiguebelle Abbey, a Trappist monastery located 50km south of Mirmande. Concealed Jews were put to work there on various maintenance tasks related to upkeep of the monastery. In Löwenstein’s case, he painted tiles, a task for which he had no enthusiasm and was ill-suited. He eventually escaped from a work party he’d been assigned to and returned to Mirmande in Spring 1943, obviously feeling it was safe again. 

By Fall 1943, Fédor was sick with an unknown ailment. He secretly traveled to Paris to consult a renowned hematologist at the Curie Institute using the pseudonym “Lauriston.” His condition remained undiagnosed and he continued to deteriorate. He seemed largely unconcerned with being arrested while in Paris because of his fluency in French and the fact that he was discrete about his Jewish background. In truth, he appears to have traveled to Paris several times during the Nazi occupation. 

An article included in the dossier given to me by Dr. Morando is the catalog mentioned above that was written for an exposition at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux (Figure 6) in 2014 in which Löwenstein’s three martyred works were featured. It includes an intriguing footnote (number 24) suggesting Fédor used the pseudonym “Lauriston” as a cynical poke at the Gestapo since they had their Paris headquarters at “93 de la rue Lauriston.”

 

Figure 6. Cover page of the 2014 exhibition catalog from the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux that featured Fédor Löwenstein’s three orphaned paintings

 

Family pictures I obtained in 2014 from the archives of the Stadtmuseum in Spandau, located outside Berlin, where the personal papers of two of Fédor’s aunts are archived, were taken in Nice. Given his declining health, it is clear he’d decided to spend his final days with his family there. The pictures were taken after the war ended because his youngest brother Heinz, who spent the entire war imprisoned or escaping from German stalags and was liberated sometime between March and May 1945, appears alongside Fédor in the postwar images. (Figures 7-8) Regular followers will recall the multiple posts I’ve written about Fédor’s brother Heinz. (Post 137; Post 137, Postscript; Post 163; Post 163, Postscript; Post 181; Post 194)

 

Figure 7. March 1946 photo of Fédor Löwenstein (seated) with his sister Hansi, his brother Heinz, and his mother Hedwig in Nice, France, several months before his death in August 1946

 

 

Figure 8. Photo of Fédor Löwenstein with his brother Heinz in military uniform taken in Nice, France on the 24th of October 1945

 

Fédor died in Nice on August 4, 1946, of Hodgkin lymphoma and was buried in the Cimetière Caucade. His mother passed away in 1949 and was entombed alongside her son. While their graves were eventually “evacuated” after the family stopped making payments required to keep them interred, their respective headstones survive as reminders of their existence. (Figure 9)

 

Figure 9. Hedwig and Fédor Löwenstein’s surviving headstones in the Cimetière Caucade in Nice, France

 

Included in the dossier that Dr. Morando sent me is the first page of a letter that was written to Mme. Sonia Delaunay on August 21, 1946, following Fedor’s death.  Recall the Delaunays were friends and supporters of his from his days in Paris. Written by someone named “Ullmann,” the person told Mme. Delaunay that Fédor had passed away and wrote that “Je perds un ami et le monde un artiste dont la valeur sera peut-etre un jour reconnue.” Translated, “I lose a friend and the world an artist whose importance may one day be recognized.” This day has finally arrived. 

With the above as background, having woven in historical events with findings from the file sent by Dr. Morando, let me briefly chronicle the paintings’ journey as documented in the dossier. 

The Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg (ERR), the “Special Task Force” headed by Adolf Hitler’s leading ideologue Alfred Rosenberg, was one of the main Nazi agencies engaged in the plunder of cultural valuables in Nazi-occupied countries during the Second World War. A particularly notorious operation by the ERR was the seizure of art from French Jewish and a number of Belgian collections from 1940 to 1944. The plunder was brought to the Jeu de Paume building in the Tuileries Gardens in Paris for processing by the ERR’s “Special Staff for Pictorial Art,” the so-called the Sonderstab Bildende Kunst. 

The twenty-five pieces of art Fédor Löwenstein tried to ship to New York on the eve of Germany’s capture of Paris are recorded as having been seized by the ERR at Hanger H at the Port of Bordeaux on December 5, 1940. Fedor had a premonition they would never arrive, a concern he expressed in writing to his girlfriend Marcelle Rivier. Following their seizure Fédor’s artworks were sent to the Jeu de Paume. (Figure 10)

 

Figure 10. Plan view of the fifteen rooms at the Jeu de Paume, including room 15, “salle des martyrs”

 

At the Jeu de Paume, the paintings were relegated to the so-called “salle des martyrs,” a space where works rejected by Nazi esthetics of the time, “degenerate art” as they were referred to, were stored pending destruction. The fact that this fate awaited the three paintings I recovered in September 2025 is evidenced by the large red crosses chalked across their surfaces. They were slated to be “vernichtet,” destroyed. And yet, by some miracle, three of Löwenstein’s paintings confiscated in 1940 survived. 

The documentation on the three Löwenstein paintings suggests that after being shuttled back and forth between the Louvre and the Jeu de Paume during the Nazi era, they wound up at the Louvre where they languished for many years. The many moves between the Louvre and the Jeu de Paume occurred for various reasons including the obsession by the Nazis to remove or destroy the degenerate art before a planned visit to the Jeu de Paume by Nazi dignitaries. It is well known that the space of the Jeu de Paume was rehung to highlight artworks for high-ranking Nazis who would regularly visit to “shop.” Hermann Göring, for example, one of the most powerful figures in the Nazi Party, is known to have visited the Jeu de Paume twenty times between November 1940 and November 1942 to select paintings for his personal collection. (Figure 11)

 

Figure 11. Hermann Göring on one of his multiple visits to the Jeu de Paume to “shop” for paintings for his personal collection

 

Some paintings considered to be degenerate were not destroyed because they could be traded to dealers or collectors for works more in line with the Nazi aesthetic. As Prévet & Thierry note, “These works, whose style was disapproved of by Nazi aesthetics, were often preserved only because of their market value and the possibilities they offered for exchange with older works that conformed more closely to official aesthetics.” (2012:34) 

In any case, this is likely how many works of unknown provenance wound up in the Louvre. 

The status of Löwenstein’s paintings was not “legally” resolved until 1973. Through administrative machinations, they were officially added to the modern art collections of the National Museum of Modern Art (Musee National d’Art Moderne) as an “anonymous donation.” Shortly before the museum’s relocation in 1977, the paintings were moved to the reserves of the Centre Pompidou where my wife and I first saw them in 2024. (Figure 12)

 

Figure 12. In April 2024, Christian Briend (Head Curator), my wife Ann Finan, my lawyer Caroline Gaffodio, and David Zivie (Minister of Culture) visiting the reserves of the Centre Pompidou where Fédor Löwenstein’s three martyred artworks were then stored

 

The identification of the three paintings, now mine, Les Arbres, Composition, and Les Peupliers, as looted art did not take place until December 2010. This was thanks to the work of archivists and curators, namely, Alain Prévet, head of the Archives of the National Museums, and Thierry Bajou, chief curator of artifacts of the French Museums. It is worth briefly relating how these two men were able to recognize Löwenstein’s paintings as looted art. 

As Didier Schulmann, former Director of the Kandinsky Library at the Centre Pompidou (Figure 13), wrote in 2012, it was a case of the “purloined letter syndrome,” based on Edgar Allan Poe’s short story of the same name, where the answer was right in front of people. (Schulmann 2012: 29).

 

Figure 13. In September 2025, Didier Schulmann, former Director of the Centre Pompidou’s Kandinsky Library

 

Preserved in the Archives of the National Museum are thirteen negatives showing views of the rooms at the Jeu de Paume taken during the Nazi occupation exhibiting numerous pieces of art seized by the ERR; these include two negatives specifically showing the “salle des martyrs” (Figures 14-15) where the works deemed degenerate were hung. Using these negatives, Prévet & Bajou describe the process they followed:

 

Figure 14. View 1 of the Jeu de Paume’s “salle des martyrs” (ERR photograph)

 

 

Figure 15. View 2 of the Jeu de Paume’s “salle des martyrs” (ERR photograph)

 

“This work initially involved a detailed digitization of the negatives, work by work. Each operation was accompanied by specific brightness adjustments to optimize the legibility of each artwork. Next, we performed an anamorphosis (Figure 16) to correct the distortions related to perspective. From this stage, it was then possible to identify a number of works and confirm attributions suggested elsewhere.”

 

Figure 16. From the French Minister of Culture’s “POP” website showing the correction using anamorphosis on Fédor Löwenstein’s “Composition” painting

 

Next, they referred to a list that the noted art historian Rose Valland recorded in her notebook on March 10, 1942 (Figure 17), of modern art displayed in the Jeu de Paume on this date. It was the translation of a list drawn up by the German authorities that provided a brief description of the pieces of art with dimensions and the name of the owners from whom the artworks had been confiscated. Ironically, while this list was known to historians, astonishingly no one had ever cross referenced it with the photographs of the Jeu de Paume. Ergo, Didier Schulmann’s remark cited above of the “purloined letter syndrome.”

 

Figure 17. Extract from historian Rose Valland’s notebook dated March 10, 1942, listing eleven paintings in the “Löwenstein collection”; Rose mistakenly thought he was a collector rather than a painter

 

Prévet & Bajou continue: 

“We also used a website recently launched by a team of American researchers led by Marc Masurovski, which reproduces all the records compiled by the ERR during the looting. This website provides a directory of the looted individuals and the works that passed through the Jeu de Paume, enriched with photographs of the seized works, when available, taken by ERR agents. We found most of the works visible on the negatives there, but some of them, now identified, remain known only through these negatives when they were not specifically photographed by the Germans. 

This is how we were able to identify works by Fédor Löwenstein, whose works were looted in December 1940 in Bordeaux. In a list from March 1942, Rose Valland enumerates eleven of the twenty-five works looted from the artist (six watercolors being grouped together as one lot) (see Figure 17), and she mentions two others, around 1944, not explicitly in the ‘Aulnay train,’ but at least remaining in Paris. At least two canvases are visible in one of the photographs, but had never been linked to this artist, particularly because the Germans intended to destroy them. [EDITOR’S NOTE: These paintings correspond to “La Ville Moderne” and an untitled work (see discussion and figures below)] 

The connection between visible works and those of a little-known artist, believed to have been destroyed according to the ERR (Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg) records, was made possible in part by a preliminary study of Löwenstein ‘s style, some of whose works appear similar to those of Paul Klee, but also by comparing the works still to be identified with those of Löwenstein listed in the ERR records. Comparing our hypotheses with the online catalog of the National Museum of Modern Art (MNAM) allowed us to find mention of three works by this artist (Figure 18), which were not illustrated at the time, one of which was clearly visible in one of the two photographs of the ‘room of martyrs.’” (2012: 34-35) [EDITOR’S NOTE: The visible painting was Fédor Löwenstein’s Composition] (Figure 19)

 

Figure 18. 1973 inventory page from the MNAM database listing Fédor Löwenstein’s three paintings among their holdings at the time

 

Figure 19. View of the “salle des martyrs” highlighting Fédor Löwenstein’s “Composition” hanging there

 

Let me make a few observations related to the above. 

The address of the website which reproduces all the records compiled by the ERR during the looting is: http://www.errproject.org/jeudepaume

The so-called “Aulnay train” was a train loaded with looted art the Germans had designated for urgent shipment on August 2, 1944, from Paris as the city was about to fall to Allied troops (i.e., the Allies liberated Paris on August 25, 1944). It was supposed to be the last shipment, but alerted by Rose Valland, the Societe nationale des chemins de fer francais (SNCF), the National Company of the French Railways, blocked the train on August 27 at the train station of Aulnay-sous-Bois; as a result many of the artworks the train contained were restored to their rightful owners. None of Löwenstein’s works, however, were aboard this train since the Germans had already decided to destroy them. As a related aside, none of Löwenstein’s artworks was individually photographed by the Germans, likely for the same reason that the Germans intended to destroy his works. 

Based on a comment in Rose Valland’s notebook, footnote number 40 in the catalog accompanying the 2014 Löwenstein exhibit in Bordeaux implies Rose Valland didn’t realize Löwenstein was a painter but rather thought he was a collector. (see Fédor Löwenstein (1901-1946), trois œuvres martyres (exh. cat)) 

Two of the Löwenstein’s paintings show “signs of laceration along the edges, where they were torn from their stretchers.” (Ministère de la Culture 2025) Documentation in the MNAM dossier sent by Dr. Morando indicates these edges have been repaired. However, since the red crosses bear witness to the “dramatic marks of history,” their “stigmata” remain. (Ministère de la Culture 2025) (Figure 20)

 

Figure 20. Fédor Löwenstein’s “Composition” painting with a large “X” scrawled across the canvas indicating it was to be “vernichtet,” destroyed (photo credit: Damien Carles/SIPA Press)

 

The Löwenstein painting Prévet & Bajou refer to as clearly visible in one of the ERR photos of the “salle des martyrs” is the one titled “Composition (Paysage).” Fascinatingly, it is tucked in a corner alongside works by Georges Braque, Marc Chagall, Pablo Picasso, Marie Laurencin, Fernand Léger, and Henri Matisse. Clearly, lofty company to be grouped with! (see Figure 15) 

To remind readers, I filed my claim with the French Minister of Culture for compensation and restitution of Löwenstein’s artworks in 2014 with Florence Saragoza’s assistance; Florence was the curator of the 2014 exhibit at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux where the martyred works were first shown. The claim mentioned 25 art pieces but over the years I never got a clear answer where this figure came from. A footnote in the French original of the paragraphs quoted above finally provided the answer. The web address to the database developed by Marc Masurovski, cited above, includes the two original pages of the list developed by the ERR listing the names, dates, art medium, and dimensions of the 25 artworks seized from Fédor Löwenstein. (Figures 21a-c) The paintings are catalogued under ERR record numbers Löwenstein 4 (Composition), 15 (Les Peupliers), and 19 (Les Arbres). These correspond to the three paintings I retrieved in September 2025. As readers can see, all 25 of Löwenstein’s listed works were crossed out, and marked “Vernichtet” (“destroyed”), even the three that survived. 

 

Figure 21a. Table 1 in the “ERR Project” database listing “Private French Jewish Collections Processed by the ERR at the Jeu de Paume” with a link to the two pages listing artworks seized by the ERR from Fédor Löwenstein

 

Figure 21b. Page 1 from “ERR Archival Guide, Appendix 1” listing the 25 pieces of art confiscated from Fédor Löwenstein by the Nazi’s ERR taskforce in December 1940

 

 

Figure 21c. Page 2 from “ERR Archival Guide, Appendix 1” listing the 25 pieces of art confiscated from Fédor Löwenstein by the Nazi’s ERR taskforce in December 1940

 

The online catalog of the National Museum of Modern Art cited by Prévet & Bajou (http://collection.centrepompidou.fr.artworks) no longer includes the three Löwenstein paintings in their inventory. 

One last observation about Prévet & Bajou’s discoveries. In the second picture taken by the ERR in the “salle des martyrs,” the curators discovered two other canvases in Löwenstein’s style, the first corresponds to the painting entitled “La Ville Moderne,” the Modern City (Figure 22), the second is untitled because too little of it is visible. (Figure 23)

 

 

Figure 22a. Fédor Löwenstein’s painting titled “La Ville Moderne,” The Modern City, seen in the “salle des martyrs,” which has disappeared and is presumed to have been destroyed

 

Figure 22b. Page from the French Minister of Culture’s “POP” website about Fédor Löwenstein’s “La Ville Moderne”

 

Figure 23. A fragment of an untitled work from the “salle des martyrs” believed to have been painted by Fédor Löwenstein and destroyed by the Nazis

 

Alain Prévet recounts the astonishing discovery: “No one had recognized the Löwensteins before. It was through studying the negatives of these two images, preserved in the archives of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, that we were able to identify them.” 

Once Löwenstein’s three paintings were positively identified as looted works, they were removed from the inventory of the MNAM (Musee National d’Art Moderne) in 2011 and transferred to the register of artworks confiscated by the Nazis, called the MNR (Musée Nationaux Recuperation) pending their return to heirs. Since their restitution in September 2025, they have now been removed from the MNR database. (Figures 24a-b)

 

Figure 24a. Left side page of MNR database showing the removal of the three Löwenstein paintings from their inventory
Figure 24b. Right side page of MNR database showing the removal of the three Löwenstein paintings from their inventory and the date of their restitution to me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Briefly, some history on the MNR. At the end of the Second World War, roughly 61,000 artworks looted from French territory were recovered in Germany and returned to France. About three-quarters of them were restored to their rightful owners, 13,000 were sold by the French state, and roughly 2,200 were placed under the care of national museums, often regional institutions. Legally, the French state is only a temporary custodian of these works. As such, they are not considered part of the permanent public collections of France’s national museums. This latter group, made up of approximately 2,200 artworks as just stated, are referred to by the acronym MNR, Musée Nationaux Recuperation. The MNR designation signals a complex history. At the MNAM, where these three surviving Löwenstein paintings resided until Prévet & Bajou came along were labeled as R26P (Les Peupliers), R27P (Les Arbres), and R28P (Composition), not by MNR numbers since they were only recognized as looted works in 2010. 

It is pointless to imagine how well-known Fédor Löwenstein might have become during his life if circumstances had been different. However, in an article written in 2016 by Anna Pravdova, entitled “Vernichtet! Three rescued paintings by Fédor Löwenstein,” published in the “Bulletin of the National Gallery in Prague,” she notes an intriguing fact. Following his death, the property of the Nierendorf Gallery in New York, where Fédor had intended his consignment of 25 paintings to be shipped, was purchased in its entirety by the Guggenheim Museum. It’s enormously satisfying that by dint of owning Fédor’s surviving paintings, I am playing a role in helping my ancestor gain the recognition he never obtained in life, even though his artworks may never hang in the Guggenheim. 

REFERENCES 

Löwenstein, Fédor. Fédor Löwenstein (exh. cat.), 1962, Gallerie Blumenthal, Paris. (includes André Lhote quote from Ce Soir, Nov. 27, 1937) 

Löwenstein, Fédor. Fédor Löwenstein (1901-1946), trois œuvres martyres (exh. cat), 15 Mai-24 Août 2014, Musée des Beaux-Arts, Bordeaux. 

Ministère de la Culture. (2025, September 16). Tracking the ghost paintings of Fédor Löwenstein, lost to Nazi looting. [Press release]. 

Pravdová, A. (2016). Vernichtet! Three rescued paintings by Fédor Löwenstein. Bulletin of the National Gallery in Prague, XXVI, 55-60. 

Prévet, A, Bajou, T. La récente identification de tableaux spoliés à l’artiste Fédor Löwenstein, in Florence Saragoza (ed.), L’Art victime de la guerre. Destin des œuvres d’art en Aquitaine pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale, Bordeaux, 2012, p. 33-35. 

Saragoza, F. (ed.) (2012). L’Art victime de la guerre. Destin des œuvres d’art en Aquitaine pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale, Bordeaux. 

Schulmann, Didier. (2012). Fédor Löwenstein, le pillage et la liquidation des ateliers des artistas juifs pendant l’occupation, in Saragoza (ed.), in Florence Saragoza (ed.), L’Art victime de la guerre. Destin des œuvres d’art en Aquitaine pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale, Bordeaux, 2012, p. 29-32.

 

POST 189, POSTSCRIPT: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025 (CLARIFICATION)

Note: Mr. David Zivie, my contact at the French Ministry of Culture clarified the roles of the “Mission for the Research and Restitution of Cultural Property Looted between 1933 and 1945 (MR2S),” which he heads, and the “Commission pour la restitution des biens et l’indemnisation des victimes de spoliations antisémites (CIVS),” which is attached to the Prime Minister’s office. Both are involved in reparation for looting of art and books confiscated by the Nazis in France during the Second World War but are separate entities doing different work.

Related Posts:

POST 105: FEDOR LÖWENSTEIN’S NAZI-CONFISCATED ART: RESTITUTION DENIED

POST 160: UPDATE ON COMPENSATION CLAIM AGAINST THE FRENCH MINISTRY OF CULTURE INVOLVING NAZI-CONFISCATED FAMILY ART 

POST 189: CEREMONY FOR THE RESTITUTION OF THREE PAINTINGS LOOTED FROM MY FATHER’S COUSIN FÉDOR LÖWENSTEIN DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR: SEPTEMBER 16, 2025

 

I am grateful to my contact at the French Ministry of Culture, Mr. David Zivie (Figure 1), for having read Post 189 where I discussed the restitution of three paintings looted from my father’s cousin Fédor Löwenstein during the Second World War. David was directly involved in my eleven-year compensation claim and was instrumental in facilitating a positive resolution of the matter.

 

Figure 1. David Zivie and me at the Musée de l’Orangerie on September 17th, 2025; David is head of the French Ministry of Culture’s MR2S department

 

In perusing Post 189, David noted several errors I made regarding the relationship of the organizational structure that he heads within the French Ministry of Culture, the so-called “Mission for the Research and Restitution of Cultural Property Looted between 1933 and 1945 (MR2S)” and the independent “Commission pour la restitution des biens et l’indemnisation des victimes de spoliations antisémites (CIVS).” Each has distinct responsibilities as it relates to resolving claims for reparation for Nazi looting of art and books, which David explained in detail. Being a stickler for accuracy compels me to write this postscript, while at the same time acknowledging it may be of scant interest to most readers. 

I first learned about my father’s first cousin, Fédor Löwenstein, in 2014 after scrutinizing the personal papers of two of my renowned great aunts archived at the Stadtmuseum in Spandau outside Berlin. Through further research I learned Fédor was an accomplished painter and unexpectedly discovered that the French Ministry of Culture was looking for heirs to restore three paintings confiscated by the Nazis at the Port of Bordeaux on December 5, 1940, that had survived. Having eluded the Nazi onslaught to destroy so-called “degenerate art,” the works were erroneously catalogued in 1973 as an “anonymous donation” and absorbed into the collections of the Louvre. It was not until December 2010 that two astute curators recognized Löwenstein’s works as looted art, whereupon the French Ministry of Culture ostensibly began the process of seeking the rightful heirs. I say “ostensibly” because I reached out to the Ministry before they ever tried to find me. 

Following my discovery in 2014, I contacted Mme. Florence Saragoza, the curator of an exhibit featuring Loewenstein’s three “martyred” works held at the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Bordeaux that year. Seemingly, this exhibit was a public effort on the part of the French Government to find rightful heirs. Coincidentally, 2014 was the year my wife and I spent 13 weeks visiting places in Europe related to my Jewish relatives’ diaspora. As I’ve detailed in Post 105 and Post 160, Florence helped me file a claim for the paintings in October 2014 in a case that was finally resolved in 2025. 

Following submission of my compensation claim in 2014, the following year my wife and I traveled to Paris to introduce ourselves to staff of the CIVS and discuss my claim. One of the staffers we met was Mme. Muriel De Bastier (Figure 2), a lady I’m still in contact with, who at the time worked for the CIVS but who now works for MR2S. Since Muriel has worked for both organizations I conflated them, ergo my confusion.

 

Figure 2. Mme. Muriel De Bastier and Mlle. Eleonore Claret in June 2015 in Paris. At the time Mme. De Bastier worked for the CIVS in the French Prime Minister’s office

 

As David clarified, the CIVS is an independent commission “attached” to the office of the Prime Minister. By contrast, the Mission for the Research and Restitution of Cultural Property Looted between 1933 and 1945 (MR2S), headed by David Zivie, is a department of the Ministry of Culture. MR2S is dedicated to researching and promoting the “policy of reparation” for looting. 

MR2S conducts research on their own initiative but also at the request of CIVS. The results of their research are then sent to the CIVS. The report to the CIVS attempts to clarify the facts and events surrounding Nazi looting during the Second World War, and to evaluate the looted works. 

Using the report, the so-called CIVS “rapporteur” then proposes a solution and makes a recommendation on how to proceed to the entire CIVS commission during a hearing, a so-called “séance.” Accompanied by my lawyer, I attended such a hearing in April 2024 in Paris. 

As a representative of the Ministry of Culture, MR2S participates in CIVS hearings, like when I attended. However, as MR2S is not part of the CIVS, they do not participate in the deliberations. 

Following the hearing, the CIVS issues opinions on cases of spoliation (i.e., “the action of taking goods or property from someone by illegal or unethical means”) and recommends repatriation measures. 

Relying upon the CIVS’s guidance, the Prime Minister issues “un décision,” recommending restitution and/or compensation. The Ministry of Culture then implements the CIVS’s recommendations and the Prime Minister’s decision by organizing the restitution of art and books. 

The Ministry of Culture, that’s to say MR2S, also tries to find original solutions, as in the case of my compensation claim. As I’ve discussed ad nauseum in earlier posts, France is governed by Civil law as opposed to Common law. Despite being the closest surviving heir to Fédor Löwenstein, according to France’s legal system the rights of two so-called “légataires universels,” universal legatees, trumped mine. This required some delicate negotiations to obtain ownership of Fedor Loewenstein’s surviving paintings. It also required the Ministry of Culture to participate in discussions with the Musée d’art et d’histoire du Judaïsme (mahJ) to have the paintings displayed there following restitution of the paintings to fulfill conditions of the agreement signed with the legatees. 

So, the MR2S (Ministry of Culture) and the CIVS are two links in the same process but are two organizations that do different work.