Note: This represents another reader-inspired post. While responding to a query from an American reader named Michael Bruck, whose surname is now spelled the way my family’s surname was once spelled, I learned his family’s surname was originally Brück, with two dots over the “u.” I helped this reader confirm family rumors and identify and track down pictures of some of his family members who were victims of the Holocaust.
I was recently contacted by an American gentleman from Virginia named Michael Bruck asking whether I have any Brucks in my family tree from a spa town named Bad Kreuznach in the west German state of Rhineland-Palatinate, located about 50 miles west-southwest of Frankfurt, Germany. (Figure 1) I explained to Michael that most of my family originated from Silesia, the historical region of Central Europe that now lies mostly in Poland, with small parts in the Czech Republic and Germany. I further added that while I have sometimes come across Brucks in my ancestral research who lived in the western part of Germany, I have never found any direct connection between them and my family.
I expected my response to be the end of our exchange. However, Michael provided additional information in his initial email that caused me to do some further investigation. He mentioned that his grandfather Arthur Bruck had been born in Bad Kreuznach in the late 19th century and had immigrated to the United States in the early 20th century. Most intriguingly, Michael mentioned that his grandfather Arthur had an unnamed brother who was a judge who disappeared in the 1930’s during the Nazi era; Arthur Bruck apparently never spoke of this brother to his family, ergo his name and fate were unknown to them.
With this scant information, I set out to see what, if anything, I could learn about Michael’s German ancestors. In the process, I made a few discoveries specific to Michael’s ancestors, but more interestingly on a historical level I made a surprising discovery that I will tell readers about in this post.
Certain of Michael’s family’s connection to Bad Kreuznach, I began by searching in ancestry.com for his grandfather Arthur Bruck. I immediately discovered Arthur’s “Declaration of Intention” to become a citizen of the United States and renounce his allegiance and fidelity to The German Empire. (Figure 2) This document is dated the 25th of May 1925 and confirms he was born in Kreuznach, Germany on the 11th of March 1885; his surname is incorrectly spelled “Bruch.” His 1928 “Petition for Naturalization” shows his surname correctly spelled. (Figure 3)
His wife’s name is given as “Ella” on the 1925 Declaration of Intention form. A New York State Marriage Extract confirms that Arthur and Ella Gerber got married on the 12th of January 1919 in Manhattan. (Figure 4) The 1920 (Figure 5) and 1940 (Figure 6) U.S. Federal Censuses show them living together in New York (Bronx and Manhattan) with their son, Charles Bruck, Michael’s father. The recently released 1950 U.S. Federal Census (Figure 7) expectedly shows that Charles is no longer living with his parents, but that Ella’s sister, Bertha G. Schack, is now living with Arthur and Ella in Los Angeles.
A 1913 Hamburg Passenger List confirms that Arthur Brück departed Hamburg, Germany on the 7th of August 1913, and was ledig, single, at the time. (Figures 8a-b) Of all the documents I found on ancestry, this is the first one showing Arthur’s surname with an umlaut over the “u,” obviously the way the surname was spelled before his arrival in America.
For information, an umlaut is often thought of as the two dots over letters, usually vowels, in the German language. Referred to as a diacritic, a sign written above or below a letter, when discussing German umlauts, there are three in use within the alphabet including Ä, Ö, and Ü. Rather than implying an accent or emphasis, German umlauts are independent characters with variations that represent both long and short sounds. In the case of “Brück” the word would be spelled out as “Brueck.”
The spelling of Michael’s current surname is like the way my father formerly spelled his name in Germany. However, just like my family’s surname changed upon their arrival in America from “Bruck” to “Brook,” so too did Michael’s family’s transform, from “Brück” with an umlaut to “Bruck” without an umlaut. In both instances of our respective German surnames spelled with and without an umlaut, the word translates to “bridge.”
Neither Michael nor I know how long his Brück family was associated with Bad Kreuznach but a quick Wikipedia search reveals the spa town is most well-known for its medieval bridge dating from around 1300, the Alte Nahebrücke, which is one of the few remaining bridges in the world with standing structures on it. This is wild speculation on my part, but possibly his family adopted their surname because they owned a business along the bridge. In the case of my own family, which originally came from Hungary and was named “Perlhefter,” they became toll collectors in an Austrian town named Bruck an der Leitha, “Bridge on the Leitha,” on the Austro-Hungarian border. Upon their relocation to Vienna, Austria, the “Bruck” surname was adopted.
The California U.S. Index tells us that Michael’s grandfather died in Los Angeles on the 5th of November 1972. (Figure 9) The Find A Grave Index further informs us that Arthur Bruck is buried in Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, California, and even shows his headstone. (Figures 10a-b)
A particularly useful document found on ancestry for Arthur Brück was the so-called “Geneanet Community Tree Index.” (Figures 11a-b) It confirms the original spelling of Arthur’s surname and provides the names and vital data of his parents, siblings, and half-siblings. This was the first evidence I found that confirmed Arthur had a brother named Max Brück, Michael Bruck’s previously unnamed great-uncle, who was born in 1884 and died in 1942. A similar “Geneanet Community Tree Index” for Max Brück established he indeed was a victim of the Holocaust. (Figure 12)
As in the case of his younger brother, I uncovered numerous documents for Max Brück. Like my own uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck who was a German WWI veteran but was nevertheless hunted down by the Nazis, Max was also a veteran of The Great War. Multiple personnel registers from WWI record his name. (Figure 13)
Max’s “Geneanet Community Tree Index” (see Figure 12) indicates he was murdered in Auschwitz on the 16th of August 1942 at the age of 58. It also shows he was married to an Elsa Neumayer, born in 1890 in Munich, with whom he had three children; unlike her husband, Elsa survived the Holocaust and died at 103 years of age in Georgia. The oldest of Max and Elsa’s children, Eugen Kurt Brück (1920-1942), I found was also murdered in Auschwitz.
Knowing Max Brück and his oldest son Eugen were Holocaust victims, I turned to the Yad Vashem Victims’ Database and predictably found both listed. Periodically, a surviving family member will complete what is termed “A Page of Testimony” remembering their loved ones. In the case of Eugen Brück, two such testimonies were submitted to Yad Vashem, one by Eugen’s mother Elsa Brück (Figures 14a-b) and another by Eugen’s younger sister Hilda Ruth Nathan née Brück (1925-2018). (Figures 15a-b) Both testimonies include pictures of Eugen, which, in my limited experience, is unusual.
According to the Page of Testimony completed by Eugen’s mother, his places of residence during the war, euphemistically speaking, were Mondorf-les-Bains in Luxembourg; Gurs internment camp in southwestern France; and Les Milles, a transit and internment camp for Jews in Aix-en-Provence. As I discussed in Post 23, my beloved Aunt Susanne, also murdered in Auschwitz in September 1942, was likewise briefly detained in Camp des Milles on her final journey to Auschwitz. At the time Eugen’s mother submitted her testimony in 1971 she lived in Huntsville, Alabama.
After sharing my findings with Michael, he and his family sent me unidentified pictures found among their grandfather Arthur Bruck’s surviving papers. One of them is a picture-postcard mailed in around 1934 from Munich showing his brother Max’s three children, Eugen along with his two younger siblings, Werner Alexander Brück (1922-1936) and Hilda Ruth Brück (1925-2018). (Figures 16a-b) The elaborate postmark “Besucht die deutsche Siedlungsausstellung München 1934 (Juni bis Oktober),” “Visit the German settlement exhibition Munich 1934 (June to October),” suggests it was mailed in 1934, and the 6 Pfennig stamp of Paul von Hindenburg issued between 1933 and 1936 would seem to confirm this.
As a brief aside, according to German Wikipedia, the “German Settlement Exhibition” of 1934, presented shortly after the Nazi regime took power was “. . .part of an exemplary embodiment of the National Socialist idea of settlement. Within a very short time, 192 single-family houses with 34 different building types were built under the direction of housing consultant and architect Guido Harbers. The ensemble is self-contained and has numerous green areas in accordance with the garden city idea.”
I asked my German friend Peter Hanke, “The Wizard of Wolfsburg,” to translate the postcard. Though the handwriting was difficult for Peter to decipher, enough could be discerned to know the card was written by Max’s wife Elsa Brück to her sister- and brother-in-law, Selma Daniel née Brück and Albert Daniel, thanking them for sending candy to her children; all three of the children signed the postcard. The card was mailed to the corset factory in Saarbrücken owned by Albert Daniel.
Aware of the fact that Max’s daughter had submitted “A Page of Testimony” for her brother Eugen, I assumed she might also have completed one for her father. Further digging proved this was in fact the case, and likewise yielded a picture of Max Brück. (Figures 17a-b)
In Yad Vashem, I also discovered three personal documents attached to Max’s entry, including a Bestätigung, a confirmation, issued by the “Administration du Culte Israelite Luxembourg” dated the 15th of November 1948 acknowledging that Max Brück and Eugen Brück had both been deported to Auschwitz. (Figure 18) Both were on the same transport departing Drancy, France on the 14th of August 1942. The cause of Max Brück’s death is not given, but I assume he was gassed immediately upon his arrival in Auschwitz, which the “Geneanet Community Tree Index” stating he died on the 16th of August 1942 corroborates.
The cause of Eugen Brück’s death, which took place on the 23rd of September 1942, is stated as “Darmkatarrh bei Phlegmone.” According to Peter Hanke, “Darmkatarrh” is an obscure expression, that today might more appropriately be described as an “inflammatory bowel disease” or “purulent bowel disease.” According to Wikipedia, “A phlegmon is a localized area of acute inflammation of the soft tissues. It is a descriptive term which may be used for inflammation related to a bacterial infection or non-infectious causes (e.g. pancreatitis). Most commonly, it is used in contradistinction to a ‘walled-off’ pus-filled collection (abscess), although a phlegmon may progress to an abscess if untreated. A phlegmon can localize anywhere in the body. The Latin term phlegmōn is from the Ancient Greek (phlégō, ‘burn’).”
After learning of Eugen’s existence from the Geneanet Community Tree Index and his fate, I rechecked ancestry.com for additional documents. Astonishingly, I found his death certificate!! (Figures 19a-b)
Having never previously found such a document for a Jewish inmate murdered in Auschwitz, I asked Peter Hanke about this. Apparently, this is not unprecedented according to the information Peter sent me from the Arolsen Archives in a section entitled “Death register entry for deceased concentration camp prisoners,” which reads as follows:
“This document is officially known as a death register entry or death book entry. It is a form that was officially filled out not only for concentration camp prisoners but others as well. As a formal act that still applies today, deceased persons must be registered at a German registry office. Deceased concentration camp prisoners were therefore also supposed to be listed in a death register – though there were major differences here depending on the prisoners’ nationality and whether they were considered Jews. The form was basically identical in all camp and civil registry offices. This is why the entries for Spanish, German and Polish deceased prisoners from different concentration camps are similar. They differ only in their typeface and the handwriting of the respective registrars.”
The only death certificate I’ve previously found for an ancestor murdered in a concentration camp was from the Theresienstadt Ghetto. (Figure 20)
In closing I would make a few observations. Though Michael Bruck’s German relatives’ surname was originally spelled Brück with two dots over the “u” and are unrelated to my own family insofar as I know, helping Michael learn about his forefathers confirmed rumors he heard about growing up. The Geneanet Community Tree indices I found for Arthur and Max Brück allowed us to connect names with photographs. Personally speaking, finding pictures of one’s ancestors, particularly those who were victims of the Holocaust, makes a statement that these people once walked among us and are not forgotten. Without fail, whenever I help others learn about their ancestors, I too learn and come away with something and nothing is more important to me.
REFERENCE
“Mustersiedlung Ramersdorf.” German Wikipedia, https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mustersiedlung_Ramersdorf
My father would refer to his aunt living in East Berlin, in the former Deutsche Demokratische Republik (DDR) (German Democratic Republic), as “la Communiste,” the Communist, only ever using this sobriquet. She was an apparatchik, a member of the Communist Party apparat in the DDR. It was long after my father passed away in 1994 that I would learn that my great-aunt’s name was Elsbeth Bruck (1874-1970). (Figure 1)
While I obviously never met her, she led a comfortable life as a high-ranking Communist government official living in a sprawling apartment she boasted she would never be able to afford in then-West Berlin. As a child my second cousin, however, Margarita Vilgertshofer née Bruck, once visited Elsbeth in East Berlin circa 1968 in the company of her father, one of my father’s first cousins. I have no clear sense of Elsbeth’s life in her years living in East Berlin, though letters exist written to her by her niece, Jeanne “Hansi” Goff née Löwenstein, from Nice, France. Like many people living in post-WWII Germany, both East and West, the shortage of food and other everyday necessities was a commonly discussed topic; from time-to-time Hansi would send her aunt care packages. For this reason, I find it mildly amusing that when Margarita visited Elsbeth and she was busy touting the benefits of living in East Germany and how egalitarian society was, Margarita cheekily responded, “well, then, how come there are no bananas?!”
In any case, as mentioned in Post 126, a German lady posted separate entries on two of my renowned great-aunts, including Elsbeth Bruck, on German Wikipedia. While some of the information was drawn from what I wrote, other details were new to me so as in the case of my great-aunt Franziska Bruck, I provide in amended form here some of the discoveries about Elsbeth.
Elsbeth’s parents, my great-grandparents, were Fedor Bruck (1834-1892) (Figure 2) and Friederike Bruck née Mockrauer (1836-1924) (Figure 3); they were the original owners of the family hotel in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Elsbeth was born in 1874 and was the youngest of my great-grandparents’ eight children. As in the case of her sister Franziska, I know nothing about Elsbeth’s early life in Ratibor. Her father passed away in 1892 when Elsbeth was 18 years old, so it’s likely she helped run the family hotel for a period until she left in around 1902 with her sister Franziska and her mother Friederike for Berlin.
Elsbeth’s life took a decidedly different path than her sister Franziska’s. She was a pacifist and peace activist for much of her life. A 1907 photo I found on the Internet suggests that her involvement in the peace movement began almost immediately after moving to Berlin. The photo shows 31 members of the German Peace Society (Deutsche Friedensgesellschaft (DFG)) including an unidentified Elsbeth; the German Peace Society was founded in 1892 in Berlin but moved its headquarters to Stuttgart in 1900, and still exists today. In 1907, Elsbeth would have been only 33 years old; only six women appear in the group photo, so judging the age and appearance of these women I reckon the woman standing in the second row circled is likely Elsbeth. (Figure 4)
Elsbeth later became a member of the Bund Neues Vaterland (New Fatherland League) and succeeded the German feminist and pacifist Lilli Jannasch as its managing director; this was the most important pacifist association during WWI from which the German League of Human Rights (German League for Human Rights – Wikipedia) (Deutsche Liga für Menschenrechte) later emerged, an organization that included among its members Albert Einstein. Founded in 1914, the League moved more and more towards the left politically, exposing its members to persecution. As a result, both Elsbeth and Lilli Jannasch were taken into “protective custody,” and in February 1916 the League was banned by an organ of the police investigating political crimes. Despite her detention, Elsbeth remained politically active. Pacifists, however, continued to remain on the Berlin State Police’s radar, and a list of 30 well-known pacifists drawn up in January 1918 included Elsbeth’s name.
By 1920, Elsbeth had joined a short-lived German left-wing organization founded in 1919 for the promotion of proletarian culture, the Bund für proletarische Kultur, the League for Proletarian Culture. According to Wikipedia, this organization “. . .sought to wipe out the last traces of bourgeois culture from working class consciousness, seeing the disappearance of this pseudo-culture as no loss. They envisaged a new proletarian culture dormant within the working class which could be woken up and play a role in the revolutionary transformation of society.” Her association with this group makes it evident why Elsbeth became a DDR firebrand following WWII.
During the Nazi era, Elsbeth’s friends in the pacifist community helped her escape first to Prague, in then-Czechoslovakia, then to the United Kingdom. According to the 1939 census, she lived in the parish of Amersham (Buckinghamshire) northwest of London and earned a living as a teacher of voice training. (Figures 5-b) Following the war, she returned to Berlin, continued her campaign for freedom and human rights, and eventually became a high ranking, well-respected member of the East German government.
In letters written to Elsbeth by her niece Hansi Goff, cited above, she often mentions the autobiography Elsbeth was working on. While this was never published, Elsbeth’s friend and roommate Cläre Jung (1892-1981) wrote the epilogue for this memoir entitled, Ein Leben für den Frieden (A Life for Peace); this manuscript is on file at the German Exile Archive in Frankfurt, Germany.
Elsbeth died on the 20th of February 1970 at the age of 95. She is buried at the “Pergolenweg” grave complex (Figure 6) of the Gedenkstätte der Sozialisten (Socialist Memorial) (Figure 7) at the Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde (Friedrichsfelde Central Cemetery) (Figure 8) in the borough of Lichtenberg in Berlin. Founded in 1881, it is the cemetery where many of Berlin’s Socialists, Communists, and anti-fascist fighters are interred.
Note: In this post, I present more information on my great-aunt Franziska Bruck (1866-1942), a well-known florist in Berlin in the first third of the twentieth century. Some of this new information is drawn from a recent entry made on German Wikipedia.
Probably not unlike the ancestors of many readers, there are multiple accomplished personages in my lineage. Some can even be found in Wikipedia. Such is the case with my great-aunt Franziska Bruck (Figure 1), an innovative and renowned florist in Berlin in the first third of the twentieth century until the Nazis came to power. Recently, the author of the German Wikipedia entry asked me to review the scripts she drafted on Franziska (https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franziska_Bruck) and her equally renowned sister Elsbeth Bruck, the subject of my next post. While some of the background was drawn from my publications, I learned new things on both great-aunts which I present to readers in amended form in this and the ensuing post. Because Wikipedia prefers its writers to remain anonymous, I’m not naming this German lady at her request.
I’ve discussed my great-aunt Franziska Bruck in two prior publications, Post 15 and Post 15, Postscript. Let me very briefly recap. Franziska was born on December 29, 1866, in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland], and was the second daughter of Fedor and Friederike Bruck, owners of the family hotel there, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel. Little is known of Franziska’s early years in Ratibor. Her father, Fedor Bruck, passed away in 1892 when she was 26 years old, so as one of the three oldest children, it is likely that along with her mother, and older brother and sister, they together ran the Bruck’s Hotel in Ratibor for a time. Eventually, however, Franziska, along with her mother Friederike and her youngest sister Elsbeth, left for Berlin in 1902, leaving the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel in Ratibor to be managed by my grandparents, Felix and Else Bruck. (Figure 2)
In Berlin she opened a flower shop on Potsdamer Straße continuing her lifelong passion for nurturing flowers. In October 1912, she opened a Schule für Blumenschmuck, a school for flower decorations catering to “Damen höherer Stände,” ladies of the upper classes who she trained to become florists and gardeners over a rigorous ten-month period. (Figure 3) As Wikipedia notes, “The fact that Bruck’s school was highly regarded was . . . demonstrated by a visit by the last German Crown Princess Cecilie, who personally informed herself on site about ‘the work of the homeworkers.’” Germany’s last Kaiser, Wilhelm II, and his wife are said to have been among my great-aunt’s customers.
Family photographs exist of Crown Princess Cecilie visiting my great-aunt’s Schule für Blumenschmuck which I have featured in previous posts. (Figures 4-5) However, unbeknownst to me is that the special event was documented by a specially produced photo postcard showing my great-aunt with the Crown Princess and her lady-in-waiting. (Figure 6) The distinguished publishing house Gustav Liersch & Co. in Berlin created the postcard; they were known for among other things producing postcards with portraits of high-ranking personalities made by well-known photographers.
A February 1915 article, in a German journal entitled “Die Bindekunst,” featured Franziska Bruck and mentioned she had gotten her start in Berlin 10 years earlier, so roughly in 1905. She introduced into Germany a form of Ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arrangement, that was not initially taken seriously. It wasn’t until her first public show in 1907 at a special flower exhibition that her artistry and excellent taste began to be appreciated.
The author of the Wikipedia entry on Franziska notes that multi-page essays on her floral art appeared in Deutsche Kunst und Dekoration and in Dekorative Kunst, the most important art magazines of the time. The art critic Paul Westheim wrote the following about Franziska in 1913:
“Franziska Bruck ist eine Dichterin. Ihre Reime sind blühende Blumen, ihre Verse duftende Sträuße. Wie ein echter Dichter schafft sie aus einem tiefen, ganz innerlichen Gefühl heraus, aus dem Erkennen der Natur, von deren unerschöpflicher Schönheit sie einen Abglanz widerzuspiegeln versucht in dem, was ihre Hände ordnen. […] Weder alte noch neue Regeln der Blumenbinderei greift sie auf. Sie ist eben da, so wie sie ist – als eine Künslerin, die auf ihre Art die Schönheit der Blumen erlebt und als rechtes Glückskind die Gabe bekommen hat, diese Erlebnisse für uns andere sinnfällig zu machen.”
Translated:
“Franziska Bruck is a poet. Her rhymes are blooming flowers, her verses fragrant bouquets. Like a true poet, she creates out of a deep, completely inner feeling, out of the recognition of nature, of whose inexhaustible beauty she tries to reflect a reflection in what her hands arrange. […] She takes up neither old nor new rules of flower arranging. She is just there, as she is – as an artist, who in her own way experiences the beauty of flowers and as a lucky child has been given the gift of making these experiences meaningful for the rest of us.”
From the Wikipedia entry, I also learned that in February 1914, Franziska and her students organized a spring show in the so-called Hohenzollern-Kunstgewerbehaus, the Hohenzollern Arts and Crafts House, on Königgrätzer Straße in Berlin. A fabulous colorful large-format poster, designed by the Austrian graphic artist Julius Klinger, advertised the event. (Figure 7) The various arrangements created for the show were widely praised and featured in Die Gartenkunst magazine along with photos of her special floral decorations.
Respectively, in 1925 and 1927, my great-aunt published two books, Blumen und Ranken (Figure 8), Flowers and Vines, and Blumenschmuck (Figure 9), Flower Decorations.
Several days after her 75th birthday, after being ordered to report to an “old age transport” for deportation to a concentration camp, Franziska committed suicide on the 2nd of January 1942 by hanging herself, leaving this world on her own terms. (Figure 10)
Note: This post is the result of a recent contact with a Dr. Dominik Gross who is developing an encyclopedia of dentists, dental technicians, and oral surgeons who worked during the Nazi era as either perpetrators or enablers or victims of the regime’s policies. Evidence provided by Dr. Gross has allowed me to identify the Jewish dentist in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland] with whom my father apprenticed after obtaining his dental license from the University of Berlin in 1930.
I was recently contacted by a Dr. Dominik Gross who is a German bioethicist and historian of medicine. (Figure 1) He is Professor and Director of the Institute of History, Theory and Ethics in Medicine at the RWTH (Rheinisch-Westfälische Technische Hochschule) Aachen, the North Rhine-Westphalia Technical University of Aachen, Germany. His research focuses on medicine under National Socialism and the professionalization of the medical and dental profession. From 2017 to 2019 he headed the national project to review the role of dentists under National Socialism.
Dr. Gross has been working on a “lexikon,” in essence an encyclopedia or dictionary, on dentists, dental technicians, and oral surgeons who worked or emerged during the time of the Third Reich as well as before 1933 or after 1945. It is titled “Lexicon of Dentists and Oral Surgeons in the ‘Third Reich’ and in Post-War Germany: Perpetrators, Followers, Members of the Opposition, Persecuted, Uninvolved Volume 1: University Teachers and Researchers.” As his publishing house describes the work it “. . . brings together ‘perpetrators, followers, members of the opposition, persecuted’ and politically ‘uninvolved,’ whereby the relationship of the individual to National Socialism is . . . a central part. Further focal points are the professional achievements as well as the personal network structures in which the individual specialist representatives were involved.”
As we speak, Dr. Gross is working on Volume 2 of his lexikon, specifically on biographies for dentists, dental technicians, and oral surgeons who had private practices or worked under the auspices of academically trained dentists.
It is worth pointing out a distinction in terminology that once existed in Germany with respect to dentists. Two German words, “zahnarzt” and “dentist” both translate into English as “dentist.” However, a German “dentist” was a job title for dentists without academic training that existed in Germany until 1952 alongside academically trained dentists. “Dentisten” (plural) were essentially dental technicians who, after successfully completing relevant training, were allowed to treat patients. In Germany, the term “dentist” is now used as a derogatory title.
As a related aside, I remarked the following in Post 31 about Hitler’s dentist, Dr. Hugo Blaschke: “Dr. Blaschke would today be called a ‘zahntechniker,’ a non-academically trained dental technician primarily responsible for producing bridges and dentures, or ‘zahnbehandler,’ dental practitioner. A ‘zahnarzt’ in today’s parlance is an academically trained dentist.” Hitler elevated Blaschkle to the status of a zahnarzt though he was not academically trained as one.
I digress. Among the biographies that will be included in Dr. Gross’s Volume 2 lexikon are ones for my father, Dr. Otto Bruck (Figure 2), and my uncle, Dr. Fedor Bruck. (Figure 3) Since some of the information about both was drawn from posts on my family history blog, Dr. Gross asked me to review his drafts. While I anticipated learning new things about my uncle’s professional life since he never told me his life’s story, I had more modest expectations regarding my father’s dental career in Germany. Still, I learned that my father had apprenticed for a Dr. Paul Herzberg in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland] after taking his dental examination at the University of Berlin in May 1930 and being licensed as a zahnarzt. What I was most surprised to learn was that as part of being certified prior to 1935 as a Dr. med. dent., a Doctor of Dental Medicine, he wrote a dissertation; to date, Dr. Gross has not been able to track it down nor discover the subject of my father’s dissertation.
Dr. Gross sent me a copy of the source of the information on my father’s apprenticeship to Dr. Herzberg, specifically, the “Deutsches Zahnärzte-Buch. 17. Ausgabe Des Adresskalendars der Zahnärzte Im Deutsches Reich Freistaat Danzig und Im Memelland 1932/33,” translated as “German dentist book. 17th edition of the address calendar of dentists in the German Reich Free State of Danzig and in Memelland 1932/33.” According to this address book, Dr. Herzberg’s office was located at Langer Markt 25 (Long Market 25) In Danzig, known today as Długi Targ. (Figure 4a-b)
My father’s photo albums include several taken in Danzig including one with his close friends Ilse and Gerhard Hoppe. (Figure 5) Regular readers will recall Posts 67, Parts I & II where I discussed the particularly brutal deaths of these companions. Like my father, Gerhard Hoppe was a dentist; he worked in the town south of Tiegenhof called Neuteich [today: Nowy Staw, Poland]. In the 1932/33 address book sent to me by Dr. Gross, readers will note the Hoppe surname under Neuteich. (see Figure 4b)
The only previous reference I had found that my father was a dentist in the Free City of Danzig was in a 1934 Danzig Address Book. Quoting what I wrote in Post 1: “Danzig Address Books can be accessed on-line at the following site: http://wiki-de.genealogy.net/Kategorie:Adressbuch_f%C3%BCr_Danzig. ‘Teil III’ (Part III) in the back of the directory is like our Yellow Pages, listing people by occupation. In the 1934 Danzig Address Book, there is a separate listing of dentists which includes Tiegenhof and the other towns in the Free City of Danzig. Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland] includes two listings, a woman by the name of Dr. Zeisemer, for which no address is provided, and a DR. HEINZ BRUCK, located at Markstrasse 8, the address corresponding exactly to my father’s dental office . . . Clearly, this is a reference to my father, although why his first name is incorrectly shown is unclear. (Figure 6) Unfortunately, no separate listing of dentists in the Danzig Address Books exists for before or after 1934 that specifically includes Tiegenhof and the towns surrounding Danzig, so it is not possible to further track my father.” Clearly, in writing the last line, I was obviously unaware of the address calendar of dentists from 1932/33 that Dr. Gross sent me.
I suspect the reason no early 1930’s Danzig residence address books include my father’s name is because he was living with his aunt, Hedwig Löwenstein née Bruck, and two of her three children, Jeanne and Heinz Löwenstein, two of my father’s first cousins.
Curious whether I might uncover any information about Dr. Paul Herzberg, I turned to ancestry.com. There, I unearthed Paul’s 1925 marriage certificate to a Mathilde Marie Fleischmann, married Heineck; clearly, Mathilde was divorced or widowed when she remarried. At the time they married they were living at Langer Markt 9/10, a stone’s throw from Dr. Herzberg’s office. (Figures 7a-d)
The marriage certificate, as I suspected, established that both Paul and Mathilde were Jewish. Checking Yad Vashem, I can find neither of their names as Holocaust victims so there is a good possibility they emigrated to an unknown destination. Expectedly, Dr. Gross confirmed there is no record of Dr. Paul Herzberg in post-WWII German phone directories.
Among my father’s surviving papers are two letters of recommendation from dentists he briefly apprenticed with prior to training with Dr. Herzberg. From the 1st to the 15th of July 1930 my father worked under a Dr. Franz Schulte from Königsbrück in the German state of Saxony (Figures 8a-b), then from the 17th of July until the 16th of August he trained with a Dr. Heinrich Kruger from Allenstein, Germany [today: Olsztyn, Poland]. (Figures 9a-b) Neither of these dentists is included in Dr. Gross’s lexikon. Given the timing of the two brief stints my father served as a novitiate in 1930, and the opening of his own practice in Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland] in April 1932, I surmise that he worked as Dr. Herzberg’s assistant in the intervening period.
In closing because I found a picture of a Dr. Fritz Bertram and other friends of my father sailing in the Bay of Danzig (Figure 10) and knew Fritz through Danzig address books to be a zahnarzt, in Post 6 I mistakenly concluded him to be the dentist with whom my father apprenticed; I now assume he was a professional colleague and friend. With new evidence to the contrary, it seems my father apprenticed rather with Dr. Paul Herzberg when living in Danzig.
Gross, Dominik. (2022) Lexikon der Zahnärzte & Kieferchirugen im “Dritten Reich” und im Nachkriegsdeutschland: Täter, Mitläufer, Oppositionelle, Verfolgte, Unbeteiligte Band 1: Hochschullehrer und Forscher. Berlin: Hentrich & Hentrich.
Note: In this sequel to the just published Post 124, I briefly examine whether the story told by my uncle’s friend the Baron Wolfram von Pannwitz to “The Providence Sunday Journal” in 1947 regarding his role in the attempted assassination of Hitler in the so-called 20 July Plot is true. I offer up possible explanations as to why Wolfram may have “mischaracterized” his involvement in the coup.
Sieghard von Pannwitz, Wolfram von Pannwitz’s first cousin once removed, recently come upon a book by Wilhelm von Schramm (1898-1983) entitled, “Aufstand der Generale: der 20. Juli in Paris.” Mr. Schramm was a German officer, journalist, and military writer. In his publication he provides an alternate description of how the arrest of SS- und Polizeiführer Frankreich (SS and Police Leader in France) Gruppenführer Carl Oberg unfolded in Paris on the day of the 20 July Plot. (Figure 1)
“The office of the Higher SS and Police Leader in France, Gruppenfuhrer Oberg, was also near Boulevard Lannes. Major General Brehmer had taken it upon himself to arrest the group leader. Because of the persistent heat, Oberg was sitting at his desk in his shirt sleeves and talking to Ambassador Abetz on the phone when the general entered and pointed his gun at him. Outraged, Oberg jumped up and called out the meaning of this nonsense. Brehmer replied sharply that the SS had staged a coup in Berlin and declared him arrested. Oberg then surrendered without resistance and also instructed his escort to surrender their weapons. It could probably just be a misunderstanding.”
As readers can plainly read, there is no mention of Wolfram von Pannwitz in this excerpt making one wonder whether his self-described role in the 20 July Plot is true. On the Internet, I could only find a brief mention of Major General Walter Bremer. Upon the establishment of the so-called “325. Sicherungs-Division,” the 325th Security Division of the Wehrmacht, in August 1942, Major General Walter Brehmer was installed as its commander. The 325th Security Division was the German military formation that operated in German-occupied France during World War II that was responsible for the defense of Paris and its surrounding area. In May 1943, Brehmer was succeeded by Lieutenant General Hans Freiherr von Boineburg-Lengsfeld.
Wikipedia goes on to note the following:
“Division commander von Boineburg-Lengsfeld, simultaneously Commandant of Greater Paris, supported military governor of France Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel in the anti-Hitler 20 July plot. On 20 July 1944, Stülpnagel was informed by Stauffenberg’s cousin, who had received a telephone call from Stauffenberg, that Hitler was dead and that the coup was in progress. Stülpnagel then ordered the arrest of all 1,200 SS personnel in the city. The 325th’s Security Regiment 1 carried out the task and imprisoned them in Fresnes Prison and Fort de l’Est. Higher SS and Police Leader in France Carl Oberg and other senior SS and Gestapo officers were detained in the Hotel Continental, pending their planned execution. The coup attempt began to unravel that night after it was known that Hitler was in fact alive, and the SS men were ordered released.”
It is possible that the various historic accounts of the 20 July Plot fail to mention Wolfram’s role for whatever reason. However, examining the above excerpts together one is left to consider that there were enlisted military men much better positioned than Wolfram von Pannwitz to carry off the arrest of Gruppenführer Carl Oberg on the 20th of July. The likelihood that dressed in street clothes Wolfram would simply have been allowed to walk into the SS offices in Paris unaccompanied without being searched seems somewhat implausible. Because some of the same players cited by Wolfram are mentioned in the above passage from Wikipedia, it seems likely that he was only vaguely aware of the attempted coup. However, the fact that the SS and the Gestapo never seem to have actively pursued him following the coup’s attempted unraveling, even though he wound up on the outskirts of Berlin and came from a well-known family, in my opinion seems to corroborate the probability that he was a bit actor.
For his part, Wolfram may have had other motives for aggrandizing his role in the 20 July Plot. We know from the interview that he conducted with “The Providence Sunday Journal” that ever since 1937 when he was in Italy, he had an interest in immigrating to the United States. His claimed role in the 20 July Plot may have expedited his entry into the United States under President Truman’s amnesty program as a persecuted individual. The fact that economic opportunities to rebuild his life in Berlin in the immediate aftermath of WWII were limited or delayed may have prompted him to want to accelerate his return to normalcy.
In conclusion one must wonder how much of Wolfram’s story of his involvement in the 20 July Plot is true. One hopes that ultimately additional verifiable accounts of what transpired on the day that conspirators attempted to assassinate Hitler come to light so that Wolfram’s role, if any, can be ascertained. Meanwhile, I reserve judgement.
REFERENCES
325th Security Division (Wehrmacht). Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/325th_Security_Division_(Wehrmacht)
Schramm, Wilhelm von. Aufstand der Generale: der 20. Juli in Paris. 1964, Kindler.
Note: In this lengthy post, I provide further details about the life of my uncle’s friend, the German Baron Wolfram E. von Pannwitz, and the tangential role he played in the failed attempt on Hitler’s life on July 20, 1944. Much of this information is derived from Sieghard von Pannwitz, Wolfram’s first cousin once removed who stumbled on my Blog, and on sources he directed me to.
Students of WWII military history may recognize July 20, 1944, as the day that Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg and other military and civilian officials attempted to assassinate Adolf Hitler, Führer of Nazi Germany, inside his Wolf’s Lair field headquarters near Rastenburg, East Prussia [today: Kętrzyn, Poland]. The plot’s apparent aim was to wrest political control of Germany and its armed forces from the Nazi Party (including the SS) and to make peace with the Western Allies as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the coup failed which resulted in the Gestapo arresting more than 7,000 people, of whom 4,980 were executed.
I recently discovered that my uncle’s friend, Wolfram E. von Pannwitz, subject of three previous Blog posts, played a secondary role in these events. While I was generally aware that Wolfram went into hiding following the July 20 Plot on Hitler, I was never entirely clear what role he played. Let me explain how I came to learn more details of Wolfram’s involvement in the failed attempt to eliminate Hitler, the facts of which were revealed mostly in his own words.
My family history Blog not only provides an opportunity to relate stories about my Jewish ancestors including the social milieu in which they lived, the political climate at the time, and the historical events they witnessed, but it has a side benefit of allowing the descendants of people who interacted with members of my family to occasionally find me. Invariably, when this happens, I find out more about the people my ancestors were connected to and come away with fodder for more Blog stories. Case in point.
In October 2022, I received an email through my Blog’s Webmail from a Mr. Sieghard von Pannwitz (Figure 1–REMOVED), Wolfram von Pannwitz’s first cousin once removed as it turns out. Prior to this message, I’d wondered after posting three articles about Wolfram whether any of his descendants might eventually stumble on my Blog. My patience was rewarded.
For intermittent readers of my Blog, let me briefly review how my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck (Figure 2) and Wolfram von Pannwitz met. The full details can be found in Post 84. Following the Fall of Berlin in early May 1945, my uncle who had miraculously survived 30 months in hiding made to his way to the apartment of Käthe Heusermann, a friend of 20 years who had once been his dental assistant when he had his own practice in Liegnitz, Germany [today: Legnica, Poland]. (Figure 3) After Hitler came to power on the 30th of January 1933, and legislation passed in April 1933 that sharply curtailed “Jewish activity” in the medical and legal professions and resulted in the closure of my uncle’s practice, both he and Käthe made their way to Berlin. Käthe Heusermann landed a position as dental assistant to Dr. Hugo Blaschke, Hitler’s dentist. (Figure 4) Inasmuch as I can tell, my uncle would occasionally shelter in Käthe’s apartment during his time in hiding. In any case, after the end of the war, Käthe suggested that he apply to the Russians to take over Dr. Blaschke’s intact dental office (Figure 5); my uncle’s request was granted. Käthe and Blaschke’s dental technician, Fritz Echtmann (Figure 6), were eventually spirited away by the Russians because of their knowledge of Adolf Hitler’s fate, a fact the Russians sought to conceal. Warned by the Americans that a similar fate awaited him, he abandoned Berlin in early 1947 and made his way to America.
The precise date on which my uncle left is unknown to me. However, he wrote an affidavit in November 1966 in the matter of a probate hearing on behalf of the estate of Wolfram E. von Pannwitz, the German Baron he met in June 1947 in West Berlin, providing a general timeframe for when he departed Germany. My uncle and Mr. von Pannwitz befriended one another that month in a displaced persons camp where they had been assembled awaiting passage to the United States. Both left for America on the 8th of July 1947 aboard the “Marine Marlin” from Bremen, Germany, and arrived in New York City on the 17th of July 1947; the two remained friends until von Pannwitz passed away in New York City in January 1966.
My uncle, known in America as Theodore A. Brook, and my aunt Verena H. Dick were married in New York on the 4th of March 1958. (Figure 7) Pannwitz was invited, and prior to my contact with Sieghard, the only picture I had of Wolfram was a side view of him at the far end of the dining table. (Figure 8) Immediately after hearing from Sieghard, I asked whether he had any photos of Wolfram and he graciously shared a few. In the process Sieghard also passed along other information which partially rounds out my understanding of Wolfram’s life.
Long before connecting with Sieghard von Pannwitz, on ancestry.com I had found the certificate for Wolfram’s marriage to his first wife, Argentinian-born Clara Virginia Rhode, showing they were wed on the 18th of October 1920 in Berlin. (Figures 9a-c) A notation in the upper righthand corner of the certificate indicates the union lasted only briefly until the 28th of February 1922 when they were officially divorced.
In any case, one photo Sieghard shared was of Wolfram’s 1920 marriage to Virginia Rhode. (Figure 10) Seated second and third from the left in this picture are Wolfram’s parents, Gertrud Pannwitz née Scholz (1869-1957) and Eberhard von Pannwitz (1861-1923), in his military attire. Meanwhile, seated third and second from the right are Wolfram’s younger sister, Elsa Petrea and her husband Martin Reymann. More on Petrea later.
In 1931, Wolfram got remarried to a woman named Frida Mueller, who by the time his niece wed in 1934 had already died from cancer earlier that same year. Neither of Wolfram’s marriages produced any children.
Another picture sent to me by Sieghard is dated to 1934 and shows the wedding of Wolfram’s niece and Petrea and Martin Reymann’s daughter, Gabriele Reymann to Joachim von Harbou. (Figure 11) A slightly older Petrea is seated in the front row next to the groom, while Wolfram is seated to the far right next to his sister’s husband, Martin Reymann. Readers will note that in both the 1920 and 1934 pictures, as well as in the photo taken at my uncle’s 1958 wedding, Wolfram stands out because he is distinctly bald. Sieghard explained this was the result of being contaminated by poison gas during WWI. Wolfram was a decorated fighter pilot and Captain during the “great war.” (Figure 12)
Sieghard also sent me a photo of a gold ring that once belonged to Wolfram that he inherited and had restyled for his wife to wear. (Figure 13) A story accompanies how he came to possess this ring. Sieghard currently lives in Osnabrück, a city in the German state of Lower Saxony, and attended school in Göttingen, a nearby university city in the same state; following his studies he immigrated to South Africa in 1966 and lived there in two stints for about 20 years. Around the time he first immigrated there in 1966 one of his female cousins married a Jürgen von Berkholz in Singapore. The couple apparently planned to spend their honeymoon in New York at the invitation and expense of Wolfram. Unfortunately, upon docking in New York they learned that Wolfram had died on the 28th of January 1966, thus a few days earlier, so, lacking funds they immediately returned home. Sieghard’s South African cousin inherited Wolfram’s ring and bequeathed it to Sieghard upon her own death. The ring is solid gold and has the von Pannwitz family coat of arms etched on it.
During our very amiable conversations, Sieghard, who has written extensively about the 820-year history of his illustrious family, mentioned in passing that about 20 years ago he was in contact with a historian from the University of Hanover. At the time, this researcher sent Sieghard an article based on an interview with Wolfram discussing, among other things, his time in Paris until July 20, 1944, and his whereabouts in the immediate aftermath of the plot to assassinate Hitler, the failure of which forced him to go into hiding. Sieghard was unable to relocate the article though he thought it had been published in the New York Times. Eventually he remembered the historian’s name, Dr. Ines Katenhusen, retrieved her email, and we were able to obtain a copy of the article in question. As it turns out, the article appeared in “The Providence Sunday Journal” on the 28th of September 1947 and was titled “Underground Baron: Wolfram Von Pannwitz Was in Plot to Assassinate Hitler.” (Figure 14)
At the time Dr. Katenhusen originally contacted Sieghard she was researching the emigration to the United States of many of the famous people associated with Germany’s Bauhaus. According to Wikipedia, “The Staatliches Bauhaus, commonly known as the Bauhaus (German for ‘building house’), was a German art school operational from 1919 to 1933 that combined crafts and the fine arts. The school became famous for its approach to design, which attempted to unify individual artistic vision with the principles of mass production and emphasis on function.”
Dr. Katenhusen is specifically interested in Dr. Alexander Dorner, a German American art historian and museum reformer, ergo the connection to people associated with the Bauhaus. According to German Wikipedia, since 2013 Ines has been working on a monograph and a documentary film about him. As it so happens, Dr. Dorner and his wife Lydia sponsored Wolfram von Pannwitz’s immigration to the United States and are the couple in whose home Wolfram lived during his years in Providence, Rhode Island.
Dr. Dorner, for his part, immigrated to the United States in 1937 because of his opposition to National Socialism. In Rhode Island, he was museum director of the Rhode Island School of Design from 1937 to 1941. From 1941 to 1948 he was professor of art history and aesthetics at Brown University in Providence. Dorner became a United States citizen in 1943, and from 1948 he taught at Bennington College in Vermont.
The article from “The Providence Sunday Journal” clarifies some episodes in Wolfram’s life. Regarding the events during WWI and how he came to be gassed, he tells the following:
“‘I learned aviation in 1912,’ he said, ‘I was among the first fliers, and when I was mobilized for the war, I was quickly promoted because there weren’t many fliers.’ Aviation was not secure then. I became a captain and a squadron commander. In 1916 I was shot down by French anti-aircraft fire. My observer was killed by the first fire, but I came down safely. However, I landed between the second and third French lines, and it happened that they withdrew the infantry and put out poison gas. Being an aviator I had no gas mask, of course, and I lay in a coma from 2 o’clock in the afternoon until 6 o’clock. How I am alive I do not know. But how I am alive several times I do not know.
They came with a stretcher and picked me up. I was nine months in a hospital in Lyons and two years a prisoner, finally exchanged through Switzerland as a badly wounded prisoner.’”
Regarding his life after the First World War until the Nazis came to power and how he knew the Dorners, Wolfram reveals the following:
“‘After the war I became an engineer, specializing in special fuels for automobiles, and for 25 years I was head of the biggest gasoline enterprise in western Berlin. When the Nazis came into power, I was not interested in joining them or their Arbeitsfront, an organization of workers and managers. I refused to join. Nothing happened for a while until the Gestapo found out that I was concealing anti-Nazis in my apartment; I had a cook who was a chatterbox. I helped some of my friends get to Switzerland and some to France. Finally the Nazis came and said I was either to join the party or give up my job. I had very good earning, but I gave up my job. That was in 1937. I went to Italy. I wrote to the Dorners ad asked them how to get to the United States, but I never got an answer. Perhaps the Italian Gestapo caught my letters. I knew the Dorners would answer. I was best man at their wedding. Mrs. Dorner was a close friend of my late wife.’”
Regarding how he wound up in Paris:
“‘I waited months and then I went to Berlin and then to Paris. I had passports and visas. There was no difficulty getting there. In Paris I imported gasoline pumps and compressors from Germany and had a wonderful time without much competition. I stayed until 1939. Several days before war broke out, France began to intern Germans. I went to the United States embassy to try and get a visa, but I was refused because I had no money there or anything else that would give an excuse. I didn’t want to go to Italy. Spain was full of troubles. So I went back to Berlin. I had kept a flat there all the time. My friends took care of it.’”
On how Wolfram wound up getting involved with the anti-Nazi opposition and assigned a role in the planned plot:
“‘I was walking one day when I happened to meet Field Marshall Erwin von Witzleben [EDITOR’S NOTE: Erwin von Witzleben was a German field marshal in the Wehrmacht during WWII. A leading conspirator in the 20 July plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler, he was designated to become commander-in-chief of the Wehrmacht in a post-Nazi regime had the plot succeeded.] He was an old friend from the first war. He was captain of artillery then. We spoke of the Nazis, and finally he invited me to come to tea the next day. There were several men in his flat, and we developed ideas about eliminating Hitler and the Nazis. We knew we had a long way to go and would need help. They asked me whether I would go back to Paris. I said I would: They procured a passport, and everything all legitimatized. Of course von Witzleben was able to do such things. It was all secret. “Don’t do anything until you are summoned,” I was told.
I go back. I wait one year. I wait two years. There is no communication. Then General Otto von Stülpnagel [EDITOR’S NOTE: The author of the article or Wolfram von Pannwitz has erroneously identified Otto von Stülpnagel as the German general with whom he collaborated in the July 20 Plot. The correct Stülpnagel was Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel who served as the military commander of German-occupied France. Increasingly unable to reconcile his military duties and his moral objections to the regime’s ideology, Carl-Heinrich von Stülpnagel joined the resistance. He was a member of the 20 July Plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler, overseeing the conspirators’ actions in France. After the failure of the plot, he was recalled to Berlin and attempted to commit suicide en route but failed. Tried on 30 August 1944, he was convicted of treason and executed on the same day.], commander in Paris, summoned me for the first time. That is in 1943. He directed me to take voyages about France. My work was to investigate the Gestapo! I was to find out what they were doing against the German army and French civilians. Everything was at cross purposes, you understand, the army opposing the Gestapo, the SS against both, and so on.
I had no official position. I always went as a civilian. Sometimes I even went into Gestapo headquarters to ask questions. I used my own name. I picked up information in restaurants and places like that. The Gestapo never suspected anybody would dare do things like that. . .
I moved about in France as I wanted to and nobody ever said anything. It was very dangerous, but if one has resolved to go against scoundrels for the sake of one’s country, one must risk his life. He must know it in advance.’”
“On July 15, 1944, Baron von Pannwitz was summoned to the office of General von Stülpnagel in Paris, and without preliminaries, was acquainted with the proposed attempt against the life of Hitler. ‘Stülpnagel developed the whole plan for me. My duty was to arrest SS General Oberg [EDITOR’S NOTE: General Carl Oberg was the senior SS and police leader (HSSPF) in occupied France, from May 1942 to November 1944, during the second world war, who came to be known as the “Butcher of Paris.”], the head of the Gestapo who was residing in the Gestapo palais on Avenue Foch. First, he showed me a plan of Oberg’s office. Then he said, “On the day—I will tell you what day later on—two companies of the army will be sent before the Gestapo building. The you go behind the right wing of the soldiers, and if the company commander lifts his arms and regards his wrist watch, go into the building and up to the second floor and go into Oberg’s office and arrest him.” He gave me a pair of manacles and a revolver. I went home and slept well. I was glad to think of the finish of the Nazis and the end of the war.
On July 18, Stülpnagel sent for me again. He said, “Tomorrow at 11 o’clock. You know everything, Good bye. Get out. Good luck.” That was all.
The next day I punctually was there. It was like a performance on a stage. The two companies of the army march up. I stand behind the right wing. I watch the commander. He looks at his watch, like this. At once I enter the building and go to the second floor. There are two SS guards at the door, but they are so interested in the troops in the yard that they do not notice me. I knock at the door.
“Come in.”
I go in. General Oberg is standing behind his desk. He comes towards me. He does not suspect anything. I put out my hand and say, “I come with the regards of General von Stülpnagel. Heil Hitler!” He puts out his hand. Suddenly I seize his wrist, take out the manacles, and snap them on. Everything goes perfectly. At that moment, in come the soldiers and I deliver Oberg to them.
Then I go to the offices of Stülpnagel to report. “Well done” he says. “Many thanks. Everything runs after the plans” He is rubbing his hands, like this.
Then he says, “You are to go to Cologne.”’”
According to Wolfram von Pannwitz, he was tasked by Stülpnagel with taking a letter to the commander of the German home troops in the Rhineland telling him to mobilize his troops and march against the front troops. Stülpnagel had cut off all communications with Germany to do what he wanted in France so failed to learn that Hitler was not killed. Upon his arrival in Luxembourg aboard the night train, Pannwitz overheard travelers talking about the failed attempt on Hitler’s life. He nonetheless continued to Cologne and headed to the house he was ordered to go to, but quickly realized the plot had unraveled when he saw two SS guards patrolling the premises. Instead, he headed back to the railroad station, and spent the next four days in Cologne, Bonn, and Aix-la-Chapelle [Aachen, Germany]. (Figure 15)
On the 25th of April, it eventually occurred to Pannwitz to turn to the Catholic Church for help, specifically Bishop Van Dar Valdan of Aix-la-Chapelle. The Bishop had him admitted to St. Johannes Hospital in Bonn where he was hidden for three months under the guise of having had a hernia operation. Pannwitz credited the Catholic Church for saving his life which is undoubtedly why he left the Catholic Church and Cardinal Spellman in New York half his wealth upon his death.
While no longer in the hospital at the time, Pannwitz was in Bonn when the Americans bombed the city on October 18th and destroyed half of it. He took advantage of the confusion to claim his apartment had been destroyed and requested that the magistrate allow him to travel to Potsdam, outside Berlin, where his sister could take him in. It took Pannwitz four days to reach Potsdam, the bombing of the railroads having made travel almost impossible. Pannwitz didn’t tell his sister anything about his adventures, apparently seeking to protect her in case the Gestapo came looking for him, which they never did. Pannwitz stayed hidden in his sister’s free room until the Russians arrived.
After things had quieted down some, Pannwitz returned to Berlin hoping to rebuild his life. He lived in his former five-room flat that had been reduced to two rooms on account of Allied bombing. After two months Pannwitz realized it would be impossible to make a living there because no raw materials and tools were then available. By April 1946, postal communication abroad had been restored, so he was able to liaise with the Dorners. Through them he reached the United States under a special program established by President Truman that placed Pannwitz in the class of the persecuted; his role in the July 20 Plot no doubt helped his cause.
By the end of his life, Wolfram von Pannwitz had amassed a fortune of $500,000 which he bequeathed in equal portions to Cardinal Spellman of the Catholic Church in New York and to the Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society. Pannwitz had made it explicitly clear in his will that none of his family members should inherit any part of his estate. Nonetheless, his sister Petrea contested the will, and apparently reached an out-of-court settlement with the Catholic Church awarding her some money. Inasmuch as my Uncle Fedor knew, Wolfram apparently had been cheated out of his share of his mother’s inheritance upon her death causing him to become estranged from his German family.
Of particular personal interest in “The Providence Sunday Journal” article is the following written about my uncle, Dr. Fedor Bruck. I will quote the entire passage, then qualify and amend it based on my understanding of actual events:
“He [Pannwitz] said he was convinced that Hitler is now dead, and he related that a Jewish dentist, Fedor Bruck, had identified a skull as that of Hitler. Bruck and von Pannwitz were passengers on the same boat from Bremerhaven to New York.
‘Bruck took over the office and laboratory of Hitler’s dentist,’ Baron von Pannwitz said. ‘One day Bruck was summoned by the Russian military governor and told to bring the sketch of Hitler’s denture that his dentist had kept on file. In Bruck’s presence the sketch was checked with a dead body. There was something uncommon about Hitler’s teeth, cavities, or fillings in them. The sketch checked with the body. That is what Bruck said.’”
Dr. Hugo Blaschke was Hitler’s American-trained dentist. According to an account written by my uncle after the war and discussed at length in Post 31, the dental techniques Dr. Blaschke used on Hitler were “old fashioned,” ergo very distinctive. The knowledge that my uncle possessed as to Hitler’s fate and the identification of Hitler’s dental remains was derived exclusively from my uncle’s conversations with Käthe Heusermann, Blaschke’s dental assistant, immediately after the war. The sketch of the dental work done on Hitler was recreated from memory by Ms. Heusermann and the identifications of the remains hers; the original X-rays of Hitler’s teeth were either at the Reich Chancellery or had been taken by Blaschke when he fled to Obersalzberg. At no time did my uncle claim to have handled nor verified dental remains as belonging to Hitler, though it is true that he was visited by Russian authorities at Blaschke’s dental office looking for X-rays and people who could identify the dental work performed on Hitler. This ultimately led to Fritz Echtmann and Käthe Heusermann both being interrogated and detained in Russia for many years.
Finally, notwithstanding the coverage in “The Provience Sunday Journal” of Wolfram von Pannwitz’s self-described role in the July 20 Plot, according to Sieghard there is no mention in relevant literature of Wolfram’s involvement in the events. So, Sieghard is left to wonder whether this is an omission on the part of historians and/or what role, if any, Wolfram actually played in the leadup to the 20 July Plot? Also, curiously, Wolfram seems not to have told my uncle about his connection to the plot nor made him aware of the 1947 newspaper article describing his role. What to make of all this is unclear.
EDITOR’S NOTE: For the first time on my Blog, I’m hosting a guest post by a gentleman named Mr. Uwe Sager, a longtime contributor to the German-language Forum.Danzig.de. Members in this Forum post articles about people, places, events, etc. associated with the former Free City of Danzig [German: Freie Stadt Danzig; Polish: Wolne Miasto Gdańsk] and investigate and try to answer queries posted by participants and fellow researchers. The Free City of Danzig was a city-state under the protection of the League of Nations between 1920 and 1939, consisting of the Baltic Sea port of Danzig [today: Gdańsk, Poland] and nearly 200 other small localities in the surrounding areas. Because my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, lived in Danzig and nearby Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland] in the Free City of Danzig between roughly 1930 and 1937, several years ago I posted multiple queries on the Forum hoping members might help me determine the fate of several of my father’s friends from his time living there, to little avail. However, this is how Uwe and I became acquainted. At the time, Uwe was already researching the fate of the Jewish family “Lieb” or “Lib” from Stutthof [today: Sztutowo, Poland] that is the subject of this guest post, although he’d not yet worked out most of the details presented below. Uwe’s research into the Lieb’s was prompted by one of the Forum’s readers who’d formerly lived in Stutthof, a woman named Irmchen Krause, asking about them. What follows is what Uwe and a fellow Forum member, Rainer Mueller Glodde, have unearthed about the Lieb family’s fate. Since I’ve mentioned the notorious Stutthof Concentration Camp in previous posts, including my father’s encounter with Gerhard Epp who relied on Jewish inmates from there to produce munitions in his converted Stutthof machine factory, it seems appropriate to include a guest post discussing the fate of one Jewish family from Stutthof.
With Contributions by Rainer Mueller Glodde (Administrator of momente-im-werder.net)
April 2020
When I was informed at the end of 2016 by Irmchen, née Krause, former Stutthof resident, of a Jewish family that had once lived there, I wanted to learn more about their history and whereabouts. The family’s name was Lieb. I hope my findings may remind the town’s current inhabitants that Jews once lived there, even though the family itself may not have attached much importance to it. Yet, the family was part of the community at one time and represents a segment of the town’s dark past.
Irmchen recalls a Jewish family by the name of Lieb that lived in Stutthof in the 1930’s. They ran a clothing store located on the corner of Schulstraße and Poststraße. (Figure 1) The family had a young daughter named Antonia, affectionately called “Tania.” Only a few Stutthöfer dared to shop at Lieb’s. As Irmchen notes, “Whoever bought from the Lieb’s had fingers pointed at them.” Additionally, customers were threatened by telling them their names would be published on the “Stürmerkasten” (EDITOR’S NOTE: Stürmerkasten is a kind of wall newspaper, that was erected in every village during the Hitler era in Germany) (Figure 2), situated directly opposite the Lieb store.
The boycott measures against Jewish businesses and businesspeople are well known. Despite these measures, ironically, some Stutthöfer secretly shopped with the Lieb’s in the evening. According to Irmchen, the talk at the time was that Mr. Lieb was taken away with his wife and child in what is referred to as a “Nacht und Nebel aktion” (EDITOR’S NOTE: German for the “night and fog action” of abductions and disappearances decreed by Nazi Germany). Irmchen is not aware of any community support on behalf of the Lieb’s. According to another witness, some members of the community were still in contact with Mrs. Lieb who was supposedly then living in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland]. Mrs. Lieb is said to have warned comers against contacting her, saying it was too dangerous. Not unexpectedly,it was reported that she wore a Jewish star.
Following the Lieb family’s abduction or departure, their business was taken over by the Antony family who ran a grocery and dairy store next door. The textile portion of the Lieb business was assumed by Heinrich Thiessen, who ran his own textile store on Poststraße.
My own research, as well as that of colleagues from Forum Gdansk, led to several documents from which the life of the Lieb/Lib family can partially be reconstructed.
Zalman Lib (Salomon Lieb) was born on the 21st of December 1891. The difficult-to-read place of birth, combined with the possibility that the place name was incorrectly spelled by the registrar, is by appearances Dziewienszki (Polish), Dieveniškės (Lithuanian) (Figure 3), Divenishok (Lithuanian), or Jevenishok (Yiddish) (see Wikipedia and Jewish Gen KehilaLinks (English), including pictures of the town). Family surname listings for Divenishok show no Lieb or Lib; the closest is the surname “Leyb.”
Around 1928 Salomon Lieb opened his clothing store at the corner of Schulstraße and Poststraße. However, the “Adreßbuch Danzig-Land von 1927/28” does not have him listed in either Stutthof nor elsewhere in the Free City of Danzig. Presumably he was living in the region but without his own household.
The existence of the Lieb clothing store is documented in two places:
Günter Rehaag, “Ostseebad Stutthof” Band 2, Einwohnerverzeichnis Stutthof (Volume 2, Register of Residents Stutthof).
Other: Besitz Fr. Löwner, tenants Rathke and Antony (early merchant Liep)
Info: Hermann Rohde
Deutsches Reichs-Adressbuch für Industrie, Gewerbe und Handel, 1934, Stutthof, Manufakturwaren (German Reich Address Book for Industry, Trade and Commerce, 1934, Stutthof, Manufactured Goods)
Dau, G. – Gerber, Fritz – Glodde, Alfr. – Lieb, Sal., – Thiessen, Heinrich (Figure 4)
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Readers will notice that immediately below the list of manufactured goods merchants on Figure 4, there is a single “Maschinenfabrik,” Machine Factory, with the merchant “Epp & Co. GmbH” listed. This would refer to Gerhard Epp who was a middle brother of two of my father’s friends from Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland]).
In 1929 Salomon Lieb got married in Danzig. (Figures 5a-c).
The marriage certificate records the following information:
Registry Office Danzig I, Certificate Number 528 dated 16th of July 1929
The merchant Salmon Lib, Jewish religion, born on the 21st of December 1891 in Dziewienszki, district Oszmiany, Lithuania, living in Stutthof, Danziger lowland.
The parents are the merchant David Lib and his already deceased wife Tony, née Katz, both residing in Dziewienszki.
Married to Sarra Wolowelski, accountant, Jewish religion, born on the 31st of August 1898/ 10th of September 1898 (Julian/Gregorian calendar) at Pinsk-Karolin, Belarus (Figure 6), living in Danzig.
The parents are the merchant Josef Wolowelski and his wife Lea, née Menzel, both living in Pinsk-Karolin, Belarus.
In 1932, presumably in Stutthof, Salomon and Sarra’s daughter Tania was born.
The exclusion, harassment, and persecution of the Jew Salomon Lieb in Stutthof, supporting what Irmchen previously noted, is confirmed in the following account:
“Kurt Gutowski, son of a local blacksmith and later poet, has given anecdotal evidence in his short memoirs of the growth of fascism and racist ideologies in his home village (Gutowski, Kurt: Aus meiner Stutthöfer Kinderzeit, p. 66). Gutowski attributes the everyday fascism to his school principal Reinhold Zube, who asked students to damage deliveries to the Jewish department store Lieb to make them unusable. Zube pulled out of the ordered district council elections in November 1934 as a firebrand in the Kreistag. . .” (Zimmermann, Rüdiger: Friedrich Rohde (1895-1970), Danziger Volkstagsabgeordneter, Fischer und Sozialist, Bonn 2020, S. 44)
In 1936, the Lieb family left Stutthof. Whether they were, as Irmchen postulated, picked up in a “Nacht und Nebel” action, or they left Stutthof quietly and secretly on their own remains unclear. The latter is supported by the above-mentioned meeting with Mrs. Lieb, who was apparently living in freedom in Danzig. (EDITOR’S NOTE: After all my father’s dental clients had abandoned him, he left nearby Tiegenhof in around fall 1937 in favor of Berlin where the anonymity of a larger city temporarily provided Jews like him more freedom of movement and economic opportunities. For the same reason, the Liebs may have felt that Danzig as a larger city might similarly and temporarily provide haven.)
The likelihood that the Liebs were living in Danzig is also supported by another written account: “. . . at the home of the Danzig merchant Salomon Lieb, officials of the Tax Investigation Office discovered 30,000 Danzig guilders in gold which they confiscated along with his savings account balance of 3,000 guilders, even though Lieb no longer ran a commercial business. Nonetheless, the Financial Authority claimed he had tax debts and seized the gold coins as an alleged tax liability and tax penalty.” (Sopade 1938, p. 770f.) (Banken, Ralf: “Hitlers Steuerstaat: Die Steuerpolitik im Dritten Reich”, 2018, S. 555, Fußnote 256)
These monetary assets suggest that Salomon Lieb had successfully sold his business and stock of goods in Stutthof to the merchants Walter Antony and Heinrich Thiessen.
Where the Lieb family then lived between 1936 and 1942 remains unclear, possibly Danzig? The Liebs are not listed in Danzig Address Books of 1937/38 and 1939, although this is not definitive proof that they did not stay in the city. Alternatively, they may have returned to Dziewienszki, Salomon’s place of birth. There is documentary evidence from a 1942 Ghetto List that Salomon Lieb and his daughter Tania, without the wife/mother Sarra, were in the Woronów Ghetto.
COLUMN 3: until 1941: Poland, Gebiet Nowogrodek; until 1944/1945: Reichskommissariat Ostland (White Ruthenia); today: Belarus, Gebiet Grodno (Hrodna) region
COLUMN 4: Opening 1st June 1941
COLUMN 5: Liquidation 30th September 1943
COLUMN 6: Deportations Lida
COLUMN 7: Remarks: on the 11th of May 1942, 1,291 persons were shot
COLUMN 8: Handbook of Detention Centers Belarus (1941-1944), 2001; Encyclopedia of Jewish Life, 2001 [EDITOR’s NOTE: The specific ghetto list with Salomon and Tania’s name on it appears in one of these publications.]
COLUMN 9: Date of Addition: 1st of August 2014
The map shows that the distance from the Woronów Ghetto [today: Voronovo, Belarus] to Dziewienszki [today: Dieveniškės, Lithuania] is only about 15.4 miles or 25km. (Figure 8)
Following a request to the “Arolsen Archives International Center on Nazi Persecution,” they sent a file about the Liebs. This file does not indicate when and from where the Lieb family was taken to the Woronów Ghetto. Salomon Lieb is arrested in the ghetto on the 19th of May 1942 and shot during an “action.” (Figures 9a-d) In the case of the 10-year-old daughter Tania the date of her arrest is given as the beginning of June 1942; she too is shot during an “action.” (Figures 10a-c)
[EDITOR’S NOTE: In Figure 9b of the questionnaire in Salomon Lieb’s Arolsen Archives file, under question 9, and on Figure 10b. of Tania Lieb’s file is written in German the following: “9. Letzte Anschrift vor der Inhaftierung: Stutthof bei Danzig bis etwa 1936, dann Danzig in der nähe der Weidengasse,” translated as “9. Last address before imprisonment: Stutthof near Danzig until about 1936, then Danzig near Weidengasse.” (Figure 11) This confirms that Salomon and Tania Lieb lived in Danzig after leaving Stutthof, although there is no indication for how long.]
[UWE SAGER’S HISTORICAL NOTE: At today’s ulica Owsiana in Gdansk, Poland (formerly Mäusegasse pointed out on Figure 11) there was a granary (Figure 12) with the charming name “Red Mouse” at number 7. In 1939 it served as a Nazi gathering point for Jews imprisoned in Danzig and was thus a kind of Danzig ghetto. The Germans were able to gather in it about 600 people who, for one reason or another, had not left Danzig when the Jewish community emigrated before the outbreak of war. The ghetto existed until 1943, when the remaining Jews were taken to the Auschwitz and Theresienstadt concentration camps. The fact that Salomon and Tania Lieb were murdered in the Woronów Ghetto rather than in Auschwitz or Theresienstadt suggests that they returned to Dziewienszki, Salomon’s place of birth, before being deported and murdered.]
Nothing is known about the whereabouts of the wife/mother Sarra, not even on the list of survivors of the Woronów Ghetto. It cannot be ruled out that Sarra died between 1936 and 1942.
In the unpublished English-language manuscript written by Moshe Berkowitz entitled “Woronow, Voronova (Voranava, Belarus) 54°09′ / 25°20′,” Chapter XIII describes how the Jewish inhabitants of Diveneshok and neighboring villages were taken to Voronovo. Before their deportation, a delegation from the villages tried to negotiate with the Germans: “The delegation was as follows: LIEB; Hirsh SCHMID; YUTAN; and KOTLIAR from Diveneshok. . .” (Figure 13) Unfortunately, the first name of LIEB is missing so it is not clear whether it refers to Salomon Lieb.
Chapter XV of the manuscript describes the massacre in Woronow, which took place on the 11th of May 1942, shortly preceding Salomon Lieb’s own death.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank the subscribers from the Danzig Forum, as well as the Arolsen Archive for providing the file on the Lieb family. My goal was not to write a book but as mentioned at the outset, to give the Lieb family a place in our consciousness. Therefore, I ask for your understanding that I have kept my post short.
The following is the file from the Arolsen Archives.
Copy of 6.3.3.3/82889670 through 82889675
In conformity with IST Digital Archives
With kind permission of the publication by above mentioned archive.
REFERENCES
Banken, Ralf. Hitlers Steuerstaat: Die Steuerpolitik im Dritten Reich (Hitler’s Tax State: Tax Policy in the Third Reich). De Gruyter Oldenbourg, 2018.
Note: In this lengthy post, I discuss one of my Jewish relatives by marriage who along with her family wound up in the Dominican Republic during WWII. I explore the cultural and political context in which Herta Brauer worked and her role in introducing ballet to the country under the sponsorship of Flor de Oro Trujillo, the daughter of the country’s longtime dictator Rafael Trujillo.
It is generally accepted there are seven continents in the world, from largest to smallest, Asia, Africa, North America, South America, Antarctica, Europe, and Australia. Probably not unlike many readers, I can trace ancestors or relatives connected to all these continents apart from Antarctica. Within North America, I occasionally learn about family that passed through one of the Caribbean islands, usually Cuba. This post dwells on one Jewish family member, Herta Brauer, who lived with her family in the Dominican Republic for several years. As a result of a relationship she mysteriously established with Flor de Oro Trujillo (Figure 1), one of the daughters of the Dominican Republic’s longtime notorious and brutal dictator, Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina, Herta was instrumental in the introduction of ballet into the country. In this post I discuss Herta Brauer’s time in the Dominican Republic and the significance of her contribution to Dominican culture.
For the benefit of new subscribers as well as longtime followers, let me briefly review how I learned about Herta Brauer, a relative by marriage whom I introduced to readers in Post 34. Several years ago while in Germany visiting the son of my deceased first cousin, I was perusing my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck’s photographs that had been inherited by this cousin. One picture immediately caught my attention. On the reverse was written in German what translates as, “Three generations: Grete-Herta-Till & Neubabelsberg 1933”; Neubabelsberg is located near Spandau, on the western outskirts of Berlin. Then, in what was unmistakably my uncle’s shaky handwriting he had added: “Aunt Grete Brauer (mother’s sister with her daughter-in-law and grandson).” (Figures 2a-b) I had an epiphany at this moment when I realized that my grandmother’s sister, Margareth Auguste Berliner, whose birth record I had previously discovered on LDS Microfilm Number 1184449 (Figure 3), had survived to adulthood; this was an “aha” moment because my father had never mentioned the existence of his maternal aunt, so I assumed after first learning about her that she had died at birth or in infancy. As I explained in Post 34, I would eventually learn that my great-aunt Margareth, Grete for short, had been murdered in Theresienstadt in 1942.
I first came across the surname “Brauer” when examining the personal papers of my paternal great-aunts Franziska Bruck and Elsbeth Bruck that are archived at Berlin’s Stadtmuseum, coincidentally also in Spandau. Here, I discovered multiple letters written to my great-aunt Elsbeth in East Berlin from Calvia, Mallorca by Hanns & Herta Brauer between 1965 and 1967. (Figure 4) The letterhead on some letters read “Dr. E. H. Brauer,” and they were variously signed “Ernst,” “Hanns,” and “Ernst & Herta.” Elsbeth’s archived materials also include photos the Brauer family sent her, though none of Grete Brauer. (Figures 5-6) Until I found the previously mentioned photo of Grete, I had assumed the Brauers were friends of my great-aunt, not closely related family.
Margarethe Berliner (1872-1942) married a man named Siegfried Brauer (1859-1926) in August 1891. (Figure 7) They had two sons, Kurt Brauer (born on July 7, 1893) and Ernst Han(n)s Brauer (born August 9, 1902) (Figure 8) and at least one daughter, Hildegard Brauer (born April 8, 1892), who was also murdered in the Holocaust; possibly, a Thea Brauer born in 1911 who perished in 1919 and who was buried in the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] may have been another of their daughters. Kurt Brauer died in 1920 and was also interred in the Jewish Cemetery in Ratibor, but Ernst Hanns Brauer (1902-1971) married Herta Brauer née Stadach (1904-1983) in 1932. (Figures 9a-c) Herta had a daughter by a previous marriage while Ernst and Herta had two sons. The vital statistics for Margarethe and Siegfried Brauer and select descendants and close family are included in a table at the end of this post.
As I explained to readers in Post 34, after learning of my maternal great-aunt’s existence, I quickly turned to ancestry.com. There, I found a surprising number of documents and information on the Brauer family which began to fill in some temporal gaps. With information recently acquired, I am better able to partially understand the Brauer family’s movements from 1941 onwards although their length of residence during some periods is still unclear.
One document I found for Herta Brauer was her Social Security Death Index which indicated that she died in August 1983 (Figure 10), and that her last supposed place of residence was in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Aware of a Puerto Rico connection, I Googled the Brauer surname and Puerto Rico, and found a promising lead in the form of a “Till Carl Brauer Mongil”; as an aside in most Spanish-speaking countries offspring carry two surnames, that of their father and mother, thus “Brauer” and “Mongil.” Since Till Brauer once ran a fishing business in Puerto Rico (Figure 11), I was easily able to contact him via email and confirm that he was indeed related to Ernst and Herta Brauer; he was their grandson. We exchanged information and photos and have continued to stay in contact.
Fast forward. The source for an increasing number of my Blog stories is inspired by readers who contact me through Webmail. Typically, I’m asked for or offered information about the people whom I write about, or people ask whether we are related; often readers are curious as to the source of my information.
I was recently contacted by a Mr. Francisco Pou (Figure 12) from the Dominican Republic who is working on a documentary about the history of classical ballet in his country. It turns out that Herta Brauer is the person who introduced ballet into the Dominican Republic. Since Francis stumbled upon mention of her in my Blog, he was curious whether I could provide additional background information about Herta since she disappeared from the country’s records “almost mysteriously,” according to Francis. I sent him some ancestry.com documents, as well as copies of the letters written by Ernst and Herta Brauer from Calvia, Mallorca to my great-aunt Elsbeth Bruck in East Berlin in the mid-1960’s; I also sent Francis a few family photos obtained either from Till Brauer or found among my great-aunt Elsbeth’s personal papers archived at the Stadtmuseum in Spandau. However, the tale that Francis related is much more compelling, the telling of which will allow me to share lesser-known history about the Dominican Republic’s role during WWII offering to save Jewish refugees.
Let me provide some context for the Dominican Republic’s role in offering Jews safe haven during WWII and the direct impact this had on Herta Brauer and her family.
In July 1938, delegates from 32 countries met in Evian, France to try and address the issue of German-Jewish refugees caused by the Nazis’ aim to make Germany judenrein (cleansed of Jews). This international conference was in response to the mounting political pressure on the United States and other nations. Most Jews from Germany and elsewhere wanted to go to the United States but were unable to obtain visas needed to enter. Even though the violent pogroms in Germany of November 1938 were widely reported on in the news, Americans were unwilling to welcome Jewish refugees; amid the Great Depression, Americans feared these displaced persons would compete with them for jobs and social programs set up to help them.
Rather than sending our Secretary of State to the Evian Conference, President Roosevelt instead selected a businessman and close friend of his to attend, Myron C. Taylor. During the nine-day meeting, while nation after nation expressed sympathy for the plight of the Jews, most nations including the United States refused to accept any refugees. One notable exception to this position of refusing to allow more Jewish refugees was the tiny nation of the Dominican Republic. Astonishingly, they offered to accept up to 100,000 refugees.
The Dominican Republic Settlement Association Inc. (DORSA) acquired 22,230 acres on the north coast of the country in a place called Sosúa from the Dominican President Rafael Trujillo; the American Jewish Joint Agricultural Corp. (Agro-Joint) heavily subsidized the project. The agreement ultimately negotiated and signed by DORSA and the Dominican Republic assured the immigrants freedom of religion and eased immigration by offering tax and customs exemptions.
While the Dominican Republic had agreed to accept up to 100,000 Jewish refugees, it is estimated that only about 5,000 visas were issued and that barely 700 Jews made it there. The reality is that while the visas would have allowed the recipients to escape the Holocaust, most of the refugees receiving them never reached the Dominican Republic since transatlantic travel proved to be extremely difficult, especially for Jews from occupied countries.
When WWII started, there were only about 40 Jews in the Dominican Republic. The first immigrants arrived in the middle of 1940, and it is estimated that by 1942 the Jewish population was 472. Jews continued to arrive in the Dominican Republic after WWII ended so that by 1947, they numbered 705. The project to bring Jews to Sosúa was intended to promote agricultural development along the Dominican Republic’s northern coast though most refugees were not inclined towards agriculture and preferred to work as businessmen and artisans. Each refugee family was given 82 acres of land, 10 cows plus one additional cow per child, and a $10,000 loan at one percent interest. The number of Jews in the Dominican Republic gradually continued to decline in the decades after WWII. By the 1980’s, most of the Jewish refugees in Sosúa had sold their land to tourist developers and left the country to pursue economic opportunities elsewhere. According to the estimates of Hebrew University demographer Sergio Della Pergola’s “World Jewish Population, 2016,” the Dominican Republic is home to between 100 and 300 Jews.
The motivation for Jews to escape to the Dominican Republic during WWII is obvious but readers may wonder what motivated President Trujillo to offer to accept up to 100,000 Jewish refugees. As previously stated, Trujillo hoped that these refugees could contribute to the country’s agriculture and consequently donated land in Sosúa in anticipation of a Jewish agricultural settlement. It is also believed that he supported letting Jewish refugees into the country as part of his strategy to encourage European rather than Haitian immigration. Trujillo was reputedly extremely racist and wanted Jewish immigrants as a way of “whitening” the Dominican Republic. Additionally, Trujillo personally profited by pocketing the “processing fees” that immigrants (or their sponsors) had to pay to be allowed in.
Trujillo used this same approach with refugees from the Spanish Civil War and Japanese migrants. In the case of the latter, the Dominican Republic signed a treaty with Japan in 1956. The Japanese motivation was to use emigration policy to improve the country’s international image following WWII by having the Japanese contribute to the development of foreign countries. Trujillo, dictator of the Dominican Republic from 1930 until his assassination in 1961, by contrast sought to use Japanese migrants as a buffer against black Haitian squatters by settling them along the country’s western border with Haiti.
There is a tragic side note to Trujillo’s decision to accept Jewish refugees during WWII. In 1937, the border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic, who share the island of Hispaniola, was the scene of a mass slaughter in which historians estimate between 9,000 and 20,000 Haitians were killed in the Dominican Republic. It earned the name the “Parsley Massacre” because Dominican soldiers carried a sprig of parsley. When the soldiers encountered people suspected of being Haitian, they would ask them to pronounce the Spanish word for it, “perejil.” Haitians whose first language was Haitian Creole found it difficult to say it correctly, which cost many of them their lives.
In any case, the U.S. administration regarded Trujillo as a staunch ally but after the scale of the massacre emerged, President Roosevelt’s administration made the Dominican Republic pay reparations to the victims’ families, money which ultimately never reached them. Regardless, it is believed that by agreeing to take in Jewish refugees Trujillo was trying to get back into the good graces of the United States.
Let me turn now to discussing Herta Brauer and her family’s arrival in the Dominican Republic, and the specific role she played there insofar as it is known. Shortly after Francis Pou contacted me, he sent me copies of the Dominican Republic Immigration Bureau’s “Application for residence permit in accordance with law no. 95” for Herta and her family. (Figures 13-16) It shows they arrived at Ciudad Trujillo (https://www.encyclopedia.com/…/ciudad-trujillo), as Santo Domingo was known from January 1936 until November 1961, on the 25th of March 1941. Herta was accompanied by her husband Ernst, their son Till Brauer, and Herta’s daughter by her first marriage, Yutta Maria Muenchow.
A ”List or Manifest of Alien Passengers for the United States” shows the family left Lisbon, Portugal on the 22nd of February 1941 aboard the ship the “S.S. Marques de Comillas” (Figure 17); this same form shows their last previous address was in Rome, Italy. The “Record of Aliens Held for Special Inquiry” form shows the family arrived in New York City on the 12th of March 1941 (Figure 18), so a little less than three weeks later. A handwritten note on this form indicates they “Transshipped to Santo Domingo” on the 20th of March 1941 aboard the “S.S. Cosmo.” Another “List or Manifest of Alien Passengers for the United States” confirms the family sailed from New York City on the 20th of March 1941. (Figure 19) The family appears to have briefly made landfall in San Juan, Puerto Rico on the 25th of March before sailing onto Santo Domingo the same day; the nautical distance between these two spots is 252 miles. Prior to receiving the Brauer’s Dominican immigration forms from Francis, I had mistakenly assumed the family had ridden out the war in Puerto Rico. It’s now clear to me that by the 25th of March 1941, Herta and her family were in fact in the Dominican Republic.
The Dominican immigration forms sent to me by Francis Pou show the family resided at “Calle Socorro Sanchez #9” in Ciudad Trujillo upon their arrival. However, according to Francis, the family did not stay in Ciudad Trujillo, nor did they relocate to the Jewish community of Sosúa. Instead, they moved to the town of Jarabacoa, located in the Central Mountain Range of the Dominican Republic at an elevation of more than 1700 feet; Francis characterizes this as the “Switzerland of the Caribbean.” (Figures 20-21) Francis believes that Herta and her family moved to this mountain town because it was in a safe and remote place, and only later relocated to Ciudad Trujillo when they realized the Dominicans were no threat to them as Jews and because her work required her to be in a larger city.
The name Jarabacoa comes from Taino indigenous people who spoke a dialect of the Arawakan language group. Notably, the Lucayan branch of the Taíno were the first New World peoples encountered by Christopher Columbus, in the Bahama Archipelago on October 12, 1492.
I recently stumbled on a 2015 paper by Jorge Mendoza entitled “Danza en República Dominicana: raíces, tradición y vanguardia,” translated as “Dance in the Dominican Republic: roots, tradition and avant-garde.” This paper includes numerous references to Herta Brauer and explains the political and cultural context in which she worked; it rounds out my understanding of Herta’s involvement in the Dominican Republic. I will highlight some of the author’s findings.
The dictator Rafael Leónidas Trujillo Molina was sworn in as head of the Dominican Republic on the 16th of August 1930. A devastating cyclone hit the island 18 days later that is estimated to have killed between 2,000 and 8,000 people, a significant percentage of the capital’s 50,000 inhabitants. Trujillo’s emergence and the rapid reconstruction he instigated in the wake of the devastating cyclone resulted in the emergence of lower-class workers and peasants and middle- and upper-class civil servants, intellectuals, and businessmen who supported the dictatorship. Herta Brauer arrived in the country amid Trujillo’s 31 years in office when the life of Dominicans revolved around his image and that of his family.
Jorge Mendoza uncovered information on Herta in an article published on the 9th of October 1944 in the defunct Dominican newspaper “La Nación” entitled “Nace el ballet en República Dominicana,” “Ballet is born in the Dominican Republic.”; the article was based on an interview conducted with her by a journalist identified only by the initials “R.M.A.” Curiously, the news story noted that Herta and Dr. Ernst Hanns Brauer apparently received a special dispensation from Pope Pius XI himself to marry while they were living in Rome. This notation is a bit puzzling since Herta and Ernst are known to have gotten married in Berlin on the 12th of March 1932 and self-identified as Jewish. Could this marriage exemption mean they had converted to Catholicism after they arrived in Italy whenever that was? If I’m interpreting things correctly, it was around the same time Pope Pius XI granted the Brauers a special marriage release that they decided to emigrate to the Dominican Republic. Whether the Pope interceded on their behalf to facilitate this or whether they obtained visas under the terms negotiated at the Evian Conference is unknown.
The idea of creating a dance school came to the Brauers while they were living in Jarabacoa. According to the journalist R.M.A., the Brauers “. . .became intoxicated with the light and color of the tropics,” and listening to the typical merengue imbued them with the rhythmic sense of “the simple people of the mountain.” The Brauers lived for a year in Jarabacoa before relocating to a house in Ciudad Trujillo located a block away from the ocean that still stands today.
While Herta Brauer was not alone in teaching ballet in Ciudad Trujillo, through circumstances that are unknown, she was fortunate to meet and obtain the financial support of Flor de Oro Trujillo, Rafael Trujillo’s first-born daughter. According to Francis Pou, Flor de Oro Trujillo was very different than the dictator’s other children. She was not a criminal like her siblings and had a very troubled relationship with her father. She was very liberal, well-educated, and a socialite in Europe. She was married an astonishing nine times and spent the last twelve years of her life in New York, dying there in 1978 reliant on friends for financial support; she’d clearly been disinherited by her family.
Soon after Herta relocated to Ciudad Trujillo she started offering ballet classes in the living room of her house probably beginning in early 1943. (Figure 22) Flor de Oro covered the scholarship expenses for Herta’s pupils, while other donors apparently covered the cost for ballet slippers, costumes, and tights for regular practices. As in other countries, ballet in the Dominican Republic was born as a pastime of the middle and upper classes. Training sessions are known to have lasted between six and seven hours a day.
It’s hard to imagine that Herta was unaware that she had escaped one totalitarian regime only to be taken in by another. Perhaps her ambition forced her to overlook this uncomfortable truth because, clearly, she could not have opened her academy without the help of Flor de Oro Trujillo. When it did eventually open it was named after her benefactor. This could have been out of gratitude or because she was compelled to identify herself with and contribute to the general atmosphere which paid constant homage to Generalissimo Trujillo.
During Trujillo’s rule, art and culture became a means of propaganda and a distraction from the regime’s brutal excesses. Trujillo imposed merengue as the national dance in Dominican society, and in his honor, merengues were written extolling his virtues. Herta Brauer was the first dance teacher to bring merengue to ballet. Taking the basic steps of this popular dance, she combined them with the techniques of ballet to favorable review. In the first merengue ballet she choreographed, Herta named the musical piece “El general llegó,” “The General Arrived,” a clear reference to Trujillo. There can be little doubt that Herta had taken note of the price she had to pay for the privileges she was granted by the Trujillo regime, which included being “untouchable” by any competitors wishing to diminish her cultural influence.
Francis believes that Flor de Oro’s cultured lifestyle may have drawn her to Herta and that introducing her father to ballet may have given Flor an entrée into his government.
Herta Brauer will be prominently featured in the documentary Francis is currently developing. She is important because she introduced ballet into the Dominican Republic, because she was the first person to blend Dominican folk music with ballet, and because she created choreographies for public events where Trujillo was in attendance. Significantly, coming from a country of a little more than ten million people, Herta trained a generation of accomplished ballet dancers that continue to be over-represented in some of the world’s major ballet companies, such as Martha Graham, the Washington Ballet, etc.
Regardless, in around 1947 Herta decided to take leave of the Dominican Republic leaving everything in the hands of a Hungarian dance teacher, a Magda Corbett, another Jew. (Figure 23) The reasons for Herta’s departure are not entirely clear, although a negative review may have angered her, or she may simply have accepted a better offer from the University of Puerto Rico.
A “Passenger Manifest” for Pan American Airways shows that Ernst Brauer arrived in San Juan, Puerto Rico alone from the Dominican Republic on the 7th of October 1947 (Figure 24), roughly coinciding with the time the Brauers are believed to have left the country. As with historic documents that provide temporal information, the passenger manifest includes another interesting fact. It shows that at the time that Ernst Brauer departed the Dominican Republic he was still deemed to be “Stateless” and had only ever been issued a Dominican residence permit; he never received Dominican citizenship even though he had lived there for almost seven years. It may be that only Ernst and Herta’s youngest son, Oliver Brauer (Figure 25), born in the Dominican Republic on the 24th of January 1942 ever obtained Dominican citizenship. (Figure 26) What is known about Oliver is that he along with the rest of the Brauers became American citizens, likely in Puerto Rico. To avoid the draft during the Vietnam War Oliver left for Germany, where he is believed to have died.
It’s unclear how long Herta and Ernst Brauer resided in Puerto Rico. However, an undated newspaper article about Ernst and Herta Brauer’s continued balletic work in Mallorca, Spain after their arrival there unequivocally states they remained in Puerto Rico for eight years. (Figure 27) Assuming they arrived there from the Dominican Republic in 1947, that would mean they stayed until around 1955; this would also coincide with their arrival in Mallorca, Spain. The “Report of the Death of an American Citizen” was completed for Ernst showing he died on the 19th of May 1971 in Calvia, Mallorca, where he is interred. (Figure 28) As previously mentioned, Herta’s Social Security Death Index indicates she died in August 1983 and claims her address at the time was in San Juan, Puerto Rico. (see Figure 10) For this reason, I erroneously assumed she had left Mallorca and rejoined her children in Puerto Rico following her husband’s death. Till Brauer, however, confirms that Herta Brauer died in Mallorca and is buried in the same cemetery alongside Ernst Brauer.
In reading the undated news article discussing Herta and Ernst’s continuing work in Mallorca, it’s clear that Herta taught dance while her husband oversaw the business aspects of running the dance studio. Why Ernst and Herta came to Mallorca is another unanswered question, but Francis directed me to a 1954 video on YouTube showing the close relationship that Trujillo had with Generalissimo Francisco Franco of Spain. Is it possible that Flor de Oro Trujillo recommended Ernst and Herta to Franco? Like in the Dominican Republic, according to Francis, it appears that their school in Mallorca was also subsidized and that free ballet lessons were offered. Regardless, it seems that Ernst and Herta could not avoid living in yet a third totalitarian country.
REFERENCES
ANU Museum of the Jewish People. “The Jewish Community of the Dominican Republic.” https://dbs.anumuseum.org.il/skn/en/c6/e250705/Place/Dominican_Republic
Davis, Nick (2012, October 13). The massacre that marked Haiti-Dominican Republic ties. BBC.
“History of the Jews in the Dominican Republic.” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_the_Jews_in_the_Dominican_Republic
“Japanese Settlement in the Dominican Republic.” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_settlement_in_the_Dominican_Republic
Johnson, Rudy (1978, February 17). Flor de Oro Trujillo, Whose Father Led Dominican Republic. New York Times, Section D, Page 12.
Mendoza, Jorge (2015, January-December). Danza en República Dominicana: raíces, tradición y vanguardia (Dance in the Dominican Republic: roots, tradition and avant-garde). Istimica, pp. 99-130.
Museum of Jewish Heritage A Living Memorial to the Holocaust. “Sosúa: A Refuge for Jews in the Dominican Republic (Sosúa: Un Refugio de Judíos en la República Dominicana),” https://mjhnyc.org/exhibitions/sosua-refuge-jews-dominican-republic-sosua-un-refugio-de-judios-en-la-republica-dominicana/
R.M.A. (1944, October 9). Nace el ballet en República Dominicana (Ballet is born in the Dominican Republic). La Nación.
“The Jews of the Dominican Republic.” YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=ysm2cqydwwE
“Trujillo Y Franco 1954.” YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5JO_f-OZsg
United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. “The Evian Conference,” https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/the-evian-conference
World Jewish Congress. “Dominican Republic.” https://www.worldjewishcongress.org/en/about/communities/DO
VITAL STATISTICS OF MARGARETH BRAUER NÉE BERLINER & SELECT FAMILY & DESCENDANTS
NAME
EVENT
DATE
PLACE
SOURCE
Auguste Margareth Berliner (self)
Birth
19 March 1872
Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland]
Margareth Auguste Berliner’s birth record (LDS Microfiche 1184449, p. 101); 1891 marriage certificate
Several years ago, while doing research on Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland] formerly located in the Free City of Danzig where my father Dr. Otto Bruck apprenticed as a dentist in the early 1930’s, I happened upon a discussion forum entitled “Forum.Danzig.de.” As I recall, at the time I was trying to learn about a close friend of my father from nearby Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwór Gdański, Poland], an enormous lady he had only ever referred to as the “Schlummermutter.” Through informants I would eventually learn her name was Margaretha “Grete” Gramatzki née Gleixner, and that she owned the building where my father lived and had his dental practice. I only fleetingly participated in the discussion forum because it is primarily oriented towards German speakers, a language I don’t speak. One forum member I briefly chatted with was Mr. Uwe Sager who put me in touch with my good German friend, the “Wizard of Wolfsburg,” Peter Hanke. Regular followers of my Blog may recall Peter has been enormously helpful tracking down and translating German ancestral documents for me, almost magically so, ergo his sobriquet.
In any case, following publication of Post 121, Uwe Sager recently sent me an email. He recognized Figure 8, the illustration I found in one of Ben Goossen’s articles showing Gerhard Epp and the leadership team of his business enterprise, the Firma Gerhard Epp Maschinenfabrik in Stutthof. (Figure 1) To remind readers Gerhard Epp was the middle sibling of two of my father’s closest friends from Tiegenhof, the Mennonite sisters Suse and Idschi Epp, who also lived in the same boarding house as my father. Among my father’s surviving pictures is one showing a social event my father attended in the early 1930’s at the home of their brother Gerhard Epp in Stutthof [today: Sztutowo, Poland]. Uwe graciously sent me a link to the complete German-language publication in which Figure 8 was originally printed, entitled “Ostseebad Stutthof,” translated as the “Baltic Seaside Resort of Stutthof,” by Günther Rehaag. Pages 114 and 115 of this publication, reprinted here, include additional images of the buildings and employees of the Firma Gerhard Epp. (Figures 2a-b)
The original picture of Gerhard Epp from Günther Rehaag’s publication identified the people in the photo, information not included in the picture reprinted in Ben Goossen’s article. To my surprise, seated to Gerhard’s left, to his right as the viewer is looking at the picture, was Gerhard’s daughter by his first marriage, Rita Schuetze née Epp (Figure 3), looking every bit as radiant as in the contemporaneous picture given to me in 2014 by her family (Figure 4); readers will recall I mentioned meeting Rita that year as an elderly woman who sadly was suffering from severe Alzheimer’s.
Another reader who contacted me was intrigued by my father’s photos from 1933, 1934, and 1935, respectively, of Nazis parading on the street below his dental office and asked whether I have additional pictures of Żuławy Wiślane, the alluvial delta area of the river Vistula, in the northern part of Poland; I shared my father’s photos from the Żuławy region with this gentleman. This reader contacted me because of our overlapping connection to Tiegenhof in the Free City of Danzig where my father had his dental practice between April 1932 and April 1937. It turns out this reader’s mother was born there in 1924, and his grandfather was a civil servant in Tiegenhof for 20+ years.
I was able to confirm this person’s association with Tiegenhof through the database of displaced Germans refugees from the former province of Danzig-Westpreußen, Germany, now Gdańsk and Bydgoszcz provinces in Poland, referred to as “Heimatortskartei, (HOK).” This database includes images of a civil register (handwritten and printed works) of more than 20 million displaced Germans arranged by their town of origin.
This supportive reader brought up that Tiegenhof had been named in League of Nations reports from the 1930’s as a “hotbed” of rising Nazism. This follower shared an article published on the 11th of January 1932 in the “Danziger VolksStimme” with the translation (Figures 5a-c) describing an incident involving an attack by Nazi supporters on workmen, providing an insight into the gathering storm. This article was not much different than the Nazi attack reported on in a local newspaper in 1935 or 1936 directed at my father’s Protestant anti-Nazi friend, Kurt Lau, discussed in Post 78.
Aware of this reader’s interest in Żuławy Wiślane and some of the places discussed in Günther Rehaag’s book on Stutthof, I forwarded him the PDF. While acknowledging the remarkable achievement of tracking so many Mennonite families and pictures connected to Stutthof, he noted the glaring omission of discussing the nearby Stutthof concentration camp on the edge of the town where it is estimated that between 63,000 and 65,000 prisoners died because of murder, starvation, epidemics, extreme labor conditions, brutal and forced evacuations, and a lack of medical attention.
This is reminiscent of the postwar observations by the Mennonite Heinrich Hamm I discussed at length in Post 121 who, according to Ben Goossen, sought to focus exclusively and falsely on a narrative that portrayed Mennonites as victims of Nazi brutality. Quoting from Goossen: “Hamm later expressed regret for the death and dying that pervaded the Epp factory in Stutthof. Yet he explicitly named only German victims of Soviet air raids, not Jewish concentration camp prisoners. ‘[M]uch, much blood of innocent women and children flowed on Epp’s land,’ Hamm told his sons. ‘Uncountable, nameless dead. . .No one asked who they were, where they came from, nothing was recorded.’ One wonders about the goal of this private postwar accounting. Was Hamm helping himself forget about Jews worked to the bone in Epp’s factory by recalling refugees he and Epp tried to save? His use of the word ‘gassing’ suggests this possibility, since bodies of refugees could have been cremated, whereas exhausted Jews would have been gassed.
What is clear is that the Mennonite-owned factory in Stutthof was a place of terror. For hundreds of prisoners enslaved there, the factory’s Mennonite managers were responsible for much of that terror. It is also clear that after the war, Hamm tried to distance himself from this responsibility. He instead emphasized the suffering of his own family, which fled Stutthof in April 1945. As they crossed the Baltic under the cover of night, a Soviet submarine torpedoed their ship. Hamm praised God for allowing the damaged vessel to make it to Denmark. The family remained in Denmark for eighteen months. Hamm emphasized his gratitude for the comfort he found during these lean times through worshipping with fellow Mennonite refugees and other Christians.”
As a brief aside, Suse and Idschi Epp, my father’s Mennonite friends from Tiegenhof, were among those who fled to Denmark from Danzig-Westpreußen in 1945 as the Red Army was approaching; Suse died there before she could be repatriated to Germany. In researching the flight of Germans to Denmark, it highlights how as the fortunes of wars change victimizers often become victims.
In a largely forgotten chapter of history, some 250,000 Germans were interned in Denmark following WWII. Beginning in February 1945, Denmark, which was then occupied by the Nazis, was forced to take in refugees from the East as the Soviets advanced towards Berlin. Mostly spared the fighting, Denmark was Berlin’s favored destination for exiles.
At the time of Denmark’s liberation by the Allies on May 5th, more than 250,000 Germans were scattered around the country, accounting for roughly five percent of Denmark’s population. Fearing this German minority would eventually gain too much influence, they were rounded up and interned in large camps or re-purposed military camps; accommodations were primitive and unsanitary. Many of the refugees died shortly after arriving, already exhausted by the journey, and suffering from various illnesses. The Danish Medical Association explicitly refrained from treating refugees, arguing that helping them was indirectly assisting the German war machine. As a result, between 1945 and 1949, when the last refugees left the country, 17,000 of them died, 60 percent of whom were children under the age of five. Following the cessation of hostilities, the Danish authorities had always wanted to send the German refugees back to Germany as soon as possible but conditions there were so chaotic this was impossible. Complicating matters was that most of the refugees came from areas no longer part of Germany, now being in Russian or Polish controlled areas; for this reason, it took until 1949 before the last German refugees were repatriated.
This last paragraph quoted from Ben Goossen segues nicely into the last reader whom I want to reintroduce to readers, a Danish gentleman named Allan Grutt Hansen. (Figure 6) Allan has been featured in several earlier posts. Suffice it to say, that following publication of Post 121, he contacted me to remind me about the post-WWII history of the Slesvig part of the German state of Schleswig-Holstein; known to Danes as Southern Slesvig and formerly part of Denmark until the Second Schleswig War (1864), Allan has repeatedly spoken to me of this area, and I will briefly relate this area’s recent history.
After the end of WWI, the Treaty of Versailles provided for two plebiscites to determine the new border between Denmark and Germany. The two referendums were held in 1920, resulting in the partition of the region. Northern Schleswig voted by a majority of 75% to join Denmark, whereas Central Schleswig voted by a majority of 80% to remain part of Germany. The likelihood that what was then referred to as Southern Schleswig would vote to remain German meant that no referendum was held there. Today, Southern Schleswig is the name used for all German Schleswig.
An entry in Wikipedia succinctly describes the situation following the end of WWII:
“Following the Second World War, a substantial part of the German population in Southern Schleswig changed their nationality and declared themselves as Danish. This change was caused by several factors, most importantly the German defeat and an influx of many refugees from the former Prussian eastern provinces, whose culture and appearance differed from the local Germans, who were mostly descendants of Danish families who had changed their nationality in the 19th century.
The change in demographics created a temporary Danish majority in the region and a demand for a new referendum from the Danish population in South Schleswig and some Danish politicians, including prime minister Knud Kristensen. However, the majority in the Danish parliament refused to support a referendum in South Schleswig, fearing that the ‘new Danes’ were not genuine in their change of nationality. This proved to be the case and, from 1948 the Danish population began to shrink again.”
As Allan has remarked to me on several occasions, Denmark did not want to risk having Southern Schleswig incorporated into Denmark to avoid planting seeds for a possible future conflict with Germany over this region. Then-Czechoslovakia’s Sudeten crisis of 1938 provoked by the demands of Nazi Germany that the Sudetenland be annexed to Germany because of the large number of Sudeten Germans living there was not far from the minds of Danes when they decided to avoid a similar situation down the road that might result in a substantial number of Germans living within Denmark’s borders.
REFERENCES
Admin-Danish Immigration Museum. “German Refugees,” 15 October 2021, https://www.danishimmigrationmuseum.com/german-refugees/
“Denmark’s German refugees remember forgotten WWII chapter.” Digital Journal, https://www.digitaljournal.com/world/denmark-s-german-refugees-remember-forgotten-wwii-chapter/article/574780#:~:text=Denmark%E2%80%99s%20German%20refugees%20remember%20forgotten%20WWII%20chapter%20By,clearly%2075%20years%20on%20from%20World%20War%20II.
“Duchy of Schleswig.” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duchy_of_Schleswig.
NOTE: In this post I examine the history of the Mennonites in the Vistula River delta in northern Poland, and my father’s interactions with them when he was a dentist in Tiegenhof which at the time was part of the Free City of Danzig. I also discuss why the historically pacifistic Mennonites went from fleeing the Netherlands, Flanders, and modern-day northern Germany in the mid-16th century to avoid religious persecution to becoming among Hitler’s staunchest supporters four centuries later.
The Dutch and Flemish Mennonites have lived in the Żuławy Wiślane, the alluvial delta area of the Vistula River in the northern part of Poland (Figure 1), for over 400 years. They came to Poland in the 16th century as refugees fleeing religious persecution in the Netherland, Flanders, and modern-day northern Germany.
Mennonites are a branch of the Christian church, with roots in the radical wing of the 16th century Protestant Reformation. Mennonites are part of the group known as Anabaptists who took their name from Menno Simons, a Roman Catholic priest who left the Church in 1536 and became a leader within the Anabaptism movement. Anabaptism is the doctrine that baptism should only be administered to believing adults, held by a radical Protestant sect that emerged during the 1520s and 1530s.
The first Mennonites came mainly from Swiss and German roots, with many of the important martyrs of the early church coming from the area around Zurich. The Low Countries regions of Friesland (i.e., province of the Netherlands located in the country’s northern part) and Flanders (i.e., the Flemish-speaking northern portion of Belgium), as well as Eastern Frisia (i.e., a historic region in the northwest of Lower Saxony, Germany) and Holstein (i.e., the southern half of Schleswig-Holstein, the northernmost state of Germany) became the center of the Mennonites. Religious persecution in the Low Countries under Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, 3rd Duke of Alba (1507-1582) forced many Mennonites to leave in the 16th century.
Historically, Mennonites have been known as one of the peace churches due to their commitment to pacifism. The majority of the early Mennonite followers, rather than fighting, fled to neighboring states where the ruling families were tolerant of their beliefs. In the 16th century Poland was among the most tolerant kingdoms in Europe.
The Mennonites, like the Amish who separated from them in the late 1600’s, represent the strictest branches of Protestantism. The Amish are widely known for their plain dress and rejection of modern technology and conveniences. Unlike the Mennonites, they form an exclusive and tight-knit community. Mennonites generally are not culturally separatist.
Żuławy Wiślane, the region in now-northern Poland where the Mennonites settled, covers about 386 square miles or 1000 square km. Historically the area was an estuary of the Vistula (Figure 2), Poland’s longest river which empties into the Baltic Sea. The arduous process of reclaiming the land from the sea began in the 14th century. This involved building hundreds of canals, miles of dikes, and networks of pumps and locks which allowed for the removal of water and the gradual drainage of the Żuławy territory. A good deal of this work was accomplished by the Mennonites who then built thriving communities across the Vistula delta.
According to an article in Wikipedia, entitled the “Vistula delta Mennonites,” the first Anabaptist reported in the area was in 1526 in Marienburg [today: Malbork, Poland] (Figure 3), a mere 15.6 miles south of Tiegenhof [today: Nowy Dwor Gdanski, Poland]. The first Mennonites from the Netherlands and Flanders arrived in Danzig [today: Gdansk, Poland] in the 1530’s. (Figure 4) As Poland’s principal seaport, Danzig played an important role in the grain trade with the Low Countries.
Menno Simons, founder of the Mennonites, is reported to have visited Danzig in 1549, and by 1569 the first Mennonite Church was founded in the city. Soon about 1,000 Mennonites lived in the city. While Mennonites were allowed to freely practice their faith, the Danzig city council refused to grant them the status of citizens; this situation remained unchanged until the city itself was annexed by the Kingdom of Prussia in 1793 in the Second Partition of Poland. The Vistula delta and the Danzig suburbs had already become part of the Kingdom of Prussia in 1772 after the First Partition of Poland, at which time more than 12,000 Mennonites lived in Prussian territory.
Only men who had served in the Prussian Army were allowed to purchase land; as conscientious objectors, Mennonites were subject to special charges, limiting their economic prospects. As a result, when Russian colonization agents sought to recruit settlers for the regions recently conquered from the Ottoman Empire following the Russo-Turkish War of 1768-1774, about 6,000 Mennonites, mostly from the Vistula delta, left for Russian Ukraine. These people formed the roots of the Russian Mennonites. The first Mennonite settlement in Russia, the Chortitza Colony, was founded by these emigrees in 1789; I touched on this topic in Post 112. The Mennonites who remained in the Vistula delta, however, became more and more assimilated, with some even willing to bear arms.
I will return briefly to the story of the Mennonites in the Vistula delta but let me provide some insight to readers for why I decided to go into such depth into this Protestant religion. I wrote in Post 5 that during the time that my father lived and worked in Tiegenhof he was friends with two women who lived in the same apartment building where he also rented an apartment and had his dental practice. The captions on his pictures identified the women as “Idschi” and “Suse” (Figure 5), and it was only when I found both their names in my father’s 1932 Day Planner with their surname and birthdays that I realized they were related and that their family name was “Epp.” In 2013, I would eventually track down their niece and grandniece in Lubeck, Germany, and learn they were respectively the youngest and oldest sisters of a large Mennonite family who were originally from Żuławy. While the sisters had a passing resemblance to one another, their age difference made it difficult to determine whether they were related.
Among my father’s pictures, there are multiple images of him shown socializing with Idschi and Suse Epp. A particularly interesting sequence of photographs (Figure 6) was taken in Stutthof, then part of the Free City of Danzig [today: Sztutowo, Poland], when my father had clearly been invited to an Epp family get-together. From Idschi and Suse’s grandniece, I learned that one of their brothers was also pictured. His name was Gerhard Epp. Much more on him later.
In researching the history of the Mennonites in the Vistula delta for this Blog post, I happened upon a series of articles written by a Dr. Ben Goossen, a Harvard University professor who has written extensively about Hitler’s Mennonite supporters. I was particularly intrigued in learning why people who were traditionally pacifists would be attracted to Hitler. In an article from October 2021 entitled “Hitler’s Mennonite Voters,” Dr. Goossen explains:
“Two factors made Danzig’s Mennonites particularly susceptible to Hitler’s project. First, members saw themselves as part of a global religious denomination they viewed as vulnerable to atheist communism. Since the eighteenth century, thousands of Mennonites had emigrated from the Danzig area to Imperial Russia. Although nationalist pressure convinced Danzig’s Mennonites to abandon pacifist teachings, they retained ties to pacifist coreligionists abroad. After the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Mennonites in the Soviet Union faced hardships. Their relatives in Danzig welcomed Hitler’s anti-Bolshevism and his antisemitism. The Führer blamed Soviet atrocities on a fictional cabal he labeled as ‘Judeo-Bolshevism.’”
Another researcher, Alicia Good, in an article entitled “Unanswered Questions: Mennonite Participation in the Holocaust,” reinforces what Goossen tells us in this regard:
“Rempel makes the argument that the destruction of Mennonite church and community life in the Soviet Republic under Stalin was so destructive that not only did Mennonites abandon their peace theology, but they perceived Hitler’s invading forces as their liberators, thereby setting the stage for them to actively aid the Nazi agenda. Rempel describes the turbulence of the Russian Revolution: ‘Driven by fear and the predation of violent anarchists, many Mennonites in South Russia set aside their pacifist tradition and formed self-defense units to protect their homes and families against bandits and even the Red Army’ It was during this period that many Mennonites chose to leave behind their beliefs in nonviolence in order to fight a losing battle against the communists, who were perceived as a threat both because of their atheistic stance and their desire to abolish private ownership of property. Rempel infers that it was these initial violent actions which set a tragic precedent laying the foundations for the next generation of Mennonites to take up arms alongside the Nazis.”
According to Goossen, the second reason Danzig Mennonites were attracted to Nazism is that it appealed to their sense of aggrieved nationalism:
“Those who had given up pacifism and chosen not to emigrate adopted a strong German identity. They lamented Germany’s defeat in the First World War, and they reviled the 1919 Versailles Treaty, which became a nationalist punching bag. This treaty assigned guilt for World War I to Germany. It required steep reparations. And it split Danzig from Germany. The nineteen Mennonite congregations in eastern Germany, with 13,000 attendees, had once formed a united group. Versailles divided them between Germany, Poland, and the Free City (where 6,000 lived). Mennonite farmers further resented Danzig’s customs union with Poland.” (Goossen, 2021)
According to Dr. Goossen, during the 1930’s Mennonites became involved at every level of the Nazi Party in Danzig. For example, the second highest-ranking Nazi in Danzig, Otto Anders, was a Mennonite. Mennonite men joined the paramilitary Sturmabteilung (SA) and the Schutzstaffel (SS), while Mennonite women joined Nazi women’s organizations. While Mennonite men who became officers in the Nazi army typically left the church, rank-and-file members normally retained their church affiliation. Faith leaders in the church also became deeply Nazified, and according to Goossens, leaders from five of the seven Mennonite churches in the Free City of Danzig were party members.
Mennonites, who numbered only 1.5 percent of Danzig’s population, had an outsized effect in the Free City of Danzig. According to Dr. Goossen, in May 1933, Mennonites helped deliver Hitler the only country-wide majority he achieved in a free election; in the Free City of Danzig their ballots pushed the Nazis over the 50 percent threshold in the popular vote.
As Goossen further notes, “The historically pacifist Christian church disproportionately influenced Nazi rule in the Free City. During World War II, members became enmeshed in the Holocaust, staffing concentration camps, and using slave labor on their farms and in their factories. Prominent Nazis believed most Mennonites were ‘Aryan.’”
As to how Menno Simons, the founder of the Mennonites, might have felt about the alliance future generations of his followers made with Nazism, Goossen observes the following: “Four hundred years later, the Mennonites who helped to bring Nazism to Danzig were a theologically transformed group. Prior to the 1933 election, one preacher praised National Socialism to a ministerial assembly as ‘the only party which we as Mennonites can support.’ This viewpoint would have been anathema to this preacher’s own ancestors. Church historian C. Henry Smith, observing from across the Atlantic, rightly assessed that Danzig’s Mennonites strayed from their roots. ‘Menno Simons would find himself ill at ease, today, among his namesakes,’ Smith wrote, ‘were he to return to his familiar haunts around the Baltic.’ A time-travelling Menno Smith would soon be ‘in all likelihood, in a concentration camp.’”
Dr. Goossen has explained why Mennonites become Nazi collaborators. However, readers may wonder, as I did, what attracted or impressed the Nazis about Mennonites? It was certainly not the faith’s historic pacifism which the Nazis surely would not have emphasized. Turning again to Goossen, “The main strategy church officials deployed to ingratiate themselves with top Nazis involved claiming racial purity. Mennonites had supposedly kept their bloodlines ‘Aryan’ through centuries of intermarriage. German racial scientists had tested Mennonite populations in Danzig and agreed with this assessment. Faith leaders further sought to prove heritage by harvesting centuries-old data from church record books.” Simply put, the Nazis considered Mennonites to be unusually pure specimens of Aryanism.
Mennonites elevated racial status ultimately drew them into the Nazi’s orbit of crimes against humanity, as Goossen explains: “Hitler waged World War II as a race war. His soldiers conquered vast swaths of Eastern Europe to provide expanded ‘living space’ for the German people, whom the Nazis considered a ‘master race.’ The invaders and local collaborators seized property from Poles, Jews, and others. They distributed this plunder to members of the German racial elite and forced non-Germans into subservient positions. In Danzig, many Mennonites benefitted from robbery and slavery. For instance, SS officers at the Stutthof concentration camp, built in 1939, formed an entire labor commando with 500 inmates to serve a Mennonite arms manufacturer, Gerhard Epp.”
So, we come full circle to the first mention of Gerhard Epp (Figure 7), the brother of my father’s friends, the Mennonite sisters Suse and Idschi Epp. But it would not be the last as he was among the most prominent Mennonite collaborators.
Let me digress and briefly tell readers a little about the Stutthof concentration camp, located 21 miles (34 km) east of Danzig in the German-annexed Free City of Danzig. Opened in September of 1939, it was under the command of Heinrich Himmler’s SS and was at the time situated near the world’s largest Mennonite population. Stutthof was the first German concentration camp set up outside German borders in World War II, and was the last camp liberated by the Allies on the 9th of May 1945. It was originally set up as a concentration camp but was later utilized as a death camp equipped with a gas chamber and crematoria. Initially it housed Polish and Russian political prisoners, but soon became the destination for thousands of deported Jews. It is estimated that between 63,000 and 65,000 prisoners of Stutthof concentration camp and its subcamps died because of murder, starvation, epidemics, extreme labor conditions, brutal and forced evacuations, and a lack of medical attention. Some 28,000 of those who died were Jews. In total, as many as 110,000 people were deported to the camp during its existence, working under what were often brutal conditions.
Quoting again from Alicia Good as to how the Mennonites in the Żuławy region benefited from the proximity of the Stutthof concentration camp: “The Mennonite farmers and business owners in the Danzig region were not only aware of the existence of the concentration camp but they derived personal profit from its operations. Mennonite farms paid the camps to receive field laborers without payment for their labor and often for longer than the allotted 8-hour shifts to maximize profits. Mennonites who owned factories, such as Gerhard Epp (Figure 8), utilized the low-cost labor from concentration camps; Epp’s factory actually manufactured firearms for the Nazi war effort. Other Mennonite businesses profited by building and supplying the camps themselves. Since Mennonite attempts to show more sympathetic treatment of the workers was prohibited by the Nazis on the threat of the sympathizer being imprisoned in the camps, Mennonite arguments that their usage was to show mercy to the prisoners was unsustainable. Likewise, it cannot be reasonably claimed that the large Mennonite community did not know about the camps since they were actively profiting from this activity. Neither the presence of tens of thousands of people subjected to horrific conditions, nor the billowing smoke and ashes of the crematoria could have been denied by any Mennonites at Danzig or Stutthof who wanted to know the truth of what was happening in their backyard. Moreover, the presence of ethnically Mennonite names on the list of prison guards who were later convicted for their work at Stutthof demonstrates that at least some members of the Mennonite community themselves committed atrocities within the camp.”
In another article written by Dr. Ben Goossen in 2020 entitled “The Real History of the Mennonites and the Holocaust,” there is further mention of Gerhard Epp. From this article, we learn more about him through Goossen’s story of Mennonite war refugee Heinrich Hamm’s antisemitic and anti-Bolshevik involvement with Nazism. Some background about Hamm provides the framework for a further discussion of Gerhard Epp.
Heinrich Hamm was born in czarist Russia in 1894. During WWI he was a medic, though abandoned pacifism and took up arms against the communists during the Russian Revolution. Following the Bolshevik victory, Hamm lost his farm near the Ukrainian city of Zaporozhe, famous these days for the site of fighting between the Russians and the Ukrainians around Europe’s largest nuclear power plant. Following Stalin’s rise to power, Hamm moved to Dnepropetrovsk, and remained there following the Nazi invasion of 1941. However, with Germany’s reversal of fortunes on the Eastern Front, by early 1944 Hamm and his family abandoned the Ukraine and eventually settled in Stutthof, which as previously mentioned had a large and long-standing Mennonite population. Hamm and his family were among the first Mennonite refugees relocated from the Ukraine to Nazi-occupied Poland.
As Goossen notes, it was in Stutthof that Hamm met Gerhard Epp: “In Stutthof, Hamm became friendly with a prominent Mennonite businessman named Gerhard Epp. Prior to the First World War, Epp had worked in Russia, and he remained greatly interested in Mennonite coreligionists from the Soviet Union. Epp offered Hamm a job in a large machine factory he owned and operated—the same establishment that Hamm would later mention in the memo he wrote for MCC [i.e., Mennonite Central Committee] (see below), claiming he was coerced into providing cheap labor for greedy German war profiteers.” (Figures 9a-b)
Goossen later goes on to add, “Gerhard Epp served as a general contractor for camp [i.e., Stutthof], from which he leased hundreds of prisoners to produce armaments in his factory. Jews and other inmates were the true cheap labor. Hamm helped oversee their slavery and murder.”
Following the end of World War II, Mennonite leaders in Europe and North America sought to craft a narrative that emphasized how brutally and oppressively their denomination had been treated by the Nazis. The Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), the denomination’s premier aid organization of which Heinrich Hamm was an employee and spokesperson, reported in various memos to bodies like the United Nations that faith leaders were unaware of Nazi collaboration of refugees including the involvement of Heinrich Hamm. The following is drawn from a version of Hamm’s wartime experiences: “It is quite an erroneous idea to think that all Mennonites were brought to Poland to be settled on farms. I and my family came to a camp in Preussisch-Stargard in the Danzig area. Immediately representatives of various works and concerns came to fetch cheap labour. I had to work in a machine factory where I remained until the end of the war. Besides the four Mennonite families many Ukrainians, Frenchmen, and Poles worked there also. There was no difference in the way these various national groups were treated.” (Goossen 2020)
As Goossen goes on to note, “The efforts by Mennonite Central Committee to portray refugees like Heinrich Hamm as victims of Nazism were largely successful.” Declarations by the MCC officers as well as by the migrants themselves convinced agents of the United Nations that most Mennonites had not wound up in Germany of their own accord. As a result, the MCC succeeded in relocating most of their refugees under its care with United Nations assistance to places in West Germany or overseas, mostly in Canada and Paraguay.
Goossen has laboriously sifted through thousands of pages of historic documents scattered across half a dozen archives in four countries to piece together Hamm’s past and debunk his story; readers are referred to Dr. Goossen’s article for more details but suffice it to say that Hamm as an MCC employee and spokesperson knew very well how and why Mennonites had collaborated with the Nazis and how complicit they were in the murder of Jewish concentration camp detainees. As Goossen notes: “What is clear is that the Mennonite-owned factory in Stutthof was a place of terror. For hundreds of prisoners enslaved there, the factory’s Mennonite managers were responsible for much of that terror. It is also clear that after the war, Hamm tried to distance himself from this responsibility. He instead emphasized the suffering of his own family, which fled Stutthof in April 1945. As they crossed the Baltic under cover of night, a Soviet submarine torpedoed their ship. Hamm praised God for allowing the damaged vessel to make it to Denmark. The family remained in Denmark for the next eighteen months. Hamm emphasized his gratitude for the comfort he found during these lean times through worshipping with fellow Mennonite refugees and other Christians.” (Goossen 2020)
As I related in Post 5, my father’s friends, Idschi and Suse Epp, also escaped to Denmark as the Russians were approaching Tiegenhof. According to Gerhard Epp’s descendants whom I met in 2013 in Lubeck, Germany, Suse Epp died in Denmark in 1941 at the age of 71. Gerhard Epp’s daughter by his first wife who died in 1939 at the age of 44 was Rita Schuetze née Epp (Figure 10); at the time I met her in 2013 she was already suffering from severe dementia. However, Rita’s half-brother and Gerhard Epp’s stepson, Hans Joachim “Hajo” Wiebe (Figures 11-12), is twelve years younger than his sister and has a splendid memory; he shared some compelling family stories.
Of particular interest is the story Hajo Wiebe related of the role that Gerhard and Rita Epp played in helping Prussian citizens and German soldiers escape towards the end of WWII as the Russians were encircling Stutthof. Danzig to the west and Elbing [today: Elblag, Poland] to the south had already been captured by the Russians, so the only way Germans could still flee the area was to make their way across the frozen “Frisches Haff,” or Vistula Lagoon (Figure 13), to a narrow, sandy spit (Vistula Spit); here, they could be picked up by German boats cruising the Baltic Sea looking for fleeing Germans, then taken first to the Hel Peninsula and eventually to Germany. Using Gerhard’s mechanical expertise, he and Rita drove in his Mercedes all around the area south of Stutthof destroying the flood control dams previous generations of Mennonites had built and inundated the naturally marshy area to slow the advance of the Russians, allowing Germans an opportunity to take flight. However, even with the area flooded, travel across the Vistula Lagoon was fraught with danger as Russian bombers were always strafing escaping Germans who stood out against the frozen landscape. The exact date of Gerhard and Rita’s own get-away on one of the last German ships leaving from the Vistula Spit is recorded in family annals as May 6, 1945.
In closing I would merely say that thanks to the recent work of scholars like Ben Goossen revelations are finally coming to light of the role Mennonites played in the crimes of National Socialism. These crimes run counter to the common belief about this Christian denomination that they are historically pacifists. What led me to uncovering the truth was my father’s friendship with two of Gerhard Epp’s sisters and a casual encounter my father had with Gerhard prior to the war.
REFERENCES
Good, Alicia. “Unanswered Questions: Mennonite Participation in the Holocaust.”
Goossen, Ben. “How to Catch a Mennonite Nazi.” Anabaptist Historians, 29 October 2020, https://anabaptisthistorians.org/2020/10/29/how-to-catch-a-mennonite-nazi/.
Goossen, Ben. “The Real History of the Mennonites and the Holocaust.” Tablet, 16 November 2020, https://www.tabletmag.com/sections/history/articles/heinrich-hamm-mennonite-holocaust.
Goossen, Ben. “How A Nazi Death Squad Viewed Mennonites.” Anabaptist Historians, 16 January 2021, https://anabaptisthistorians.org/2021/01/16/how-a-nazi-death-squad-viewed-mennonites/
Neff, Christian and Richard D. Thiessen. “Wladyslaw IV Vasa, King of Poland (1595-1648).” Global Anabaptist Mennonite Encyclopedia Online. March 2015. Web. 11 Aug 2022. https://gameo.org/index.php?title=Wladyslaw_IV_Vasa,_King_of_Poland_(1595-1648)&oldid=140874.
“The History of Polish Mennonites.” Gdanski Trips, https://www.gdansktrips.com/the-history-of-polish-mennonites/.
