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

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

ALFRED JULIUS BRUCK, 1946

 

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

Related Posts: 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regarding the inhumane treatment of Russians: 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

Regarding trading items from Red Cross parcels with local Poles: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the treatment of informers: 

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

Further on the Russians: 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

On German Army progress on various fronts: 

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

On the arrival of the Channel Islanders: 

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

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

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

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

On the radio in camp and hearing the BBC news: 

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

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

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

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

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

On Germans forcing Poles to fight for them: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

On “Volksdeutsche” refugees: 

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

The last Christmas behind barbed wire, Christmas 1944: 

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

The Russians break through: 

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

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

 

There was talk of the camp removal. . . 

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

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

The flight from Kreuzberg finally commenced: 

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

Observation about the train trip to Spittal: 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

 

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

 

REFERENCES 

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

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

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

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

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

POST 195: RATIBOR’S NATIVE SON CLAUS OGERMAN, RENOWNED GERMAN CONDUCTOR, COMPOSER, MUSICAL ARRANGER


Note: This post again proves, as an unknown writer much wiser than me once said, that there’s a short story to be found on every street corner. When the short story happens to be about my father’s hometown of Ratibor and involves one of its famous native sons, Claus Ogerman, who came to America and became one of the most prolific 20th century musical arrangers working with a string of singers who are household names, the tale is even more tantalizing. But it’s topped off by a curious discovery I made comparing two photographs sent to me by separate individuals that serendipitously overlap and relate to Claus.
 

Related Posts: 

POST 72: FAMILY CABINET CARDS FROM RATIBOR & BERLIN PHOTO STUDIOS 

POST 138: INTRIGUING DISCOVERIES ABOUT RATIBOR’S HELIOS PHOTO STUDIO

POST 190: FURTHER CONNECTIONS WITH RATIBOR’S “PHOTO-HELIOS” STUDIO, A MANUFACTURER OF CABINET CARDS

A reader recently sent me a photograph taken on the Rynek, the Market Square, in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), my father’s hometown, probably in the early to mid-1940s. The photo was sent to me by “Monika,” a lady I introduced to readers in Post 190. Monika stumbled upon Post 138 while researching photo studios that once existed in Ratibor. Her interest stems from the fact that for a brief period between 1942 and 1944 her father, Leopold “Leo” Simon (Figures 1a-b), lived in Ratibor and apprenticed in a photo shop. From Post 138, she discovered the studio where Leo briefly worked was “Photo-Helios,” which has been the subject of several posts.

 

Figure 1a. Monika’s father, Leopold “Leo” Simon, who apprenticed in Ratibor’s “Photo-Helios” between 1942 and 1944

 

 

Figure 1b. Backside of photo of Leopold “Leo” Simon showing it was taken on the 15th of November 1944 in Ratibor

 

Post 138 included photos taken inside “Photo-Helios” of staff that once worked there that were sent to me by a lady named Jessica Nastos, whose great-grandmother also once worked there. As I also discussed in Post 138, the original proprietors of Photo-Helios were Hans and Emma Ogermann. The group photos included staff as well as Emma Ogermann and someone I assumed was her husband, Hans. To her surprise and delight, Monika realized it was her father Leo and informed me I’d misidentified him. (Figures 2a-b)

 

Figure 2a. Group photo taken inside of “Photo-Helios” of staffers working there

 

 

Figure 2b. Closeup of Leopold “Leo” Simon from group photo whom I’m misidentified as Hans Ogermann

 

A brief digression. Following publication of Post 72 dealing with cabinet cards from Ratibor and Berlin, Jakub “Kuba” Stankiewicz, the Director of Jazz Studies at the prestigious Karol Lipiński University of Music in Wrocław, contacted me. A gentleman I now consider a friend whom I met in August in Racibórz (Figure 3), Kuba explained that Ratibor’s famous native son, Claus Ogerman (Figure 4), born Klaus Ogermann, was the son of Hans and Emma Ogermann, owners of Photo-Helios. I refer readers to Post 138 for more background.

 

Figure 3. Kuba Stankiewicz and me in August 2025 in Racibórz

 

 

Figure 4. Claus Ogerman (1930-2016) (photo credit: by httpswww.imdb.comnamenm0644659, Fair use, httpsen.wikipedia.orgwindex.phpcurid=58608757)

 

Continuing. Monika is a professional photographer, as was her father. Being the curator of some of her father’s surviving pictures, I was curious whether any might have been taken during the short period Leo Simon lived in Ratibor between 1942 and 1944. She could only find one, but it is a remarkable photo as I will explain. 

The photograph (Figure 5) is hauntingly alluring made so by the fact the picture was taken at night, and the surface of the image is “crazed,” that is, it has a network of fine cracks and fissures, like those in glazed pottery, old paint, or concrete. These were likely caused by drying or improper storage. Regardless, the structural integrity of the photo has not been compromised, and the architectural elements recognizable.

 

Figure 5. Photo of Ratibor’s Market Square, likely taken by Monika’s father Leopold “Leo” Simon, in the early to mid-1940s

 

The picture shows Ratibor’s Rynek during the Second World War before most of the buildings surrounding the extant market square were destroyed by the invading Red Army in 1945. The photo looks towards the south. The Christmas tree proves the picture was taken during the holiday season. Two recognizable architectural features appear that still exist today. These include the Virgin Mary Column (Kolumna Matki Boskiej w Raciborzu) to the right of the Christmas tree, and the so-called Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Parafia Wniebowzięcia Najświętszej Maryi) in the background. 

The Virgin Mary Column (Figure 6) was built between 1725 and 1727 by a renowned Baroque sculptor Johann Melchior Österreich as a votive offering to thank St. Mary for saving the town from a cholera epidemic. The column incorporates images of angels and figures of St. Florian (patron saint of fire), St. Sebastian (patron saint of epidemics), and St. Marcel (patron saint of Racibórz). According to prophecy, Racibórz will be flooded should anyone dig up the column’s plinth.

 

Figure 6. The Virgin Mary Column in Racibórz as it looks today

 

The Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Figure 7) is one of the oldest Upper Silesian parish churches and the only one that preserves features of early Silesian Gothic architecture. It is Racibórz’s oldest and most significant church with a history dating back to 1205. The Racibórz parish was probably founded in the mid-thirteenth century during the foundation of the town, which took place around 1240.

 

Figure 7. The Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Racibórz as it looks today

 

Let me switch gears and discuss a separate photograph sent to me by Michał Fita, the former Vice-Mayor of Racibórz. Michał is a collector of Claus Ogerman discography. My wife Ann Finan and I met him at the same time we met Kuba Stankiewicz in Racibórz in August. (Figure 8) This is when I donated memorabilia from the former Bruck family establishment, the Bruck’s “Prinz von Preußen” Hotel, to the local museum, the Muzeum w Raciborzu. 

 

Figure 8. Group photo from left to right of Michał Fita, me, Kuba Stankiewicz, and my wife Ann Finan in Racibórz in August 2025

 

Adjacent the restaurant on market square where my wife and I met Kuba and Michał for lunch, the city of Racibórz has erected an interpretive sign incorporating a photo looking towards the nearby corner where Claus Ogerman’s childhood home once stood. (Figure 9) Recently, Michał sent me a high-quality copy of this photo with an arrow pointing towards the apartment building where Claus grew up. (Figure 10) As readers can see, the house was located on the Rynek in front the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

 

Figure 9. Interpretive panel on Raciborz’s Market Square (Rynek) showing the no-longer existing apartment building where Claus Ogerman grew up

 

Figure 10. High-quality closeup photo sent to me by Michał Fita showing the same apartment building where Claus Ogerman grew up

 

Once I realized the photo sent by Monika was also taken on the Rynek (Figures 11-12), I compared it to the one sent by Michał and serendipitously noticed there is overlap between them. The photo sent by Michał does not show the Virgin Mary Column meaning it was shot closer to the apartment building where Claus grew up; the column is centrally located in the square. However, both photos include the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary and appear to have been taken looking roughly towards the south.

 

Figure 11. 1927-28 Ratibor map with red arrow pointing towards the Rynek, Market Square, referred to as the “Ring”

 

 

Figure 12. Present-day map of Racibórz looking towards the north showing the Rynek and the outline of the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 

 

In Monika’s photo, readers can clearly see the complete sign for the business establishment “Kaufhaus Silbermann,” seemingly owned by “D. Silbermann.” Barely visible to the right of this establishment is one named “Gebruder Freund.” In Michał’s photo, only the last five letters of Kaufmann Silbermann’s sign are visible, “rmann,” though the complete sign for “Gebrüder Freund” is legible. 

To the right of the Christmas tree in Monika’s picture, “Feinkost” can clearly be read below most of the Paul Ackermann store sign. Examining Michał’s photo, these same signs can be seen.

In Monika’s picture, the building that stands in the hazy glow between the Christmas tree and the Virgin Mary Column is the apartment building where Claus grew up. Few details can be made out. 

The cars visible in Michał’s photo appear to date from the late 1920s-early 1930s, so the photo was likely taken at least 10 years before Monika’s image. 

Curiously enough, Jan Krajczok, another Polish friend from Rybnik, a town 16 miles to the east of Racibórz, sent me yet another historic photo showing the Rynek. (Figure 13) As readers can see, the photo is an aerial shot, in this instance looking roughly towards the north. It is an equally compelling image to the ones sent by Monika and Michał. I’ve pointed out Claus’ childhood home. In this picture, readers can clearly make out the Virgin Mary Column and the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Oderstrasse, the street where the Bruck’s Hotel once stood, can also be seen caddy corner from the Ogerman home on the Rynek (i.e., the Ogerman home was on the south corner of the market square and Oderstrasse (see Figure 13) entered the square from the north). While difficult to point out to readers, I believe I can make out the roof of the former Bruck’s Hotel.

 

Figure 13. Historic aerial photo of Ratibor looking towards the north showing the Virgin Mary Column in the center of the Market Square and the Church of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the center-right of the picture. Red arrow in the foreground points to apartment building where Claus Ogermann grew up and the red arrow in the background points to start of Oderstrasse

 

Admittedly, this post will be of limited interest to readers. Nonetheless, I find myself drawn to finding connections between random occurrences such as two historic photos of Ratibor suddenly materializing in my inbox that overlap and happen to show the childhood home of one of the city’s famous native sons. 

In the spirit of the holidays and given the who’s who of famous singers for whom Claus did musical arrangements and compositions, I thought I would include YouTube links to a few of his productions. 

Frank Sinatra’s major collaboration with Claus Ogerman was on the iconic 1967 bossa nova album, “Francis Albert Sinatra & Antonio Carlos Jobim,” where Ogerman served as the orchestrator and conductor. The album was a commercial success and was nominated for Album of the Year at the Grammys. 

The Girl from Ipanema

 Change Partners

 Barbra Streisand and Claus collaborated on her acclaimed 1976 album, “Classical Barbra.” Ogerman arranged the orchestral scores, conducted the Columbia Symphony Orchestra, and composed the song “I Loved You,” featuring lyrics from a Pushkin poem.

After moving to the United States in 1959, beyond working with Sinatra and Streisand, he also worked with:

Bill Evans

Wes Montgomery

Kai Winding

Ogerman also arranged many pop hits, including Solomon Burke’s “Cry To Me” and Lesley Gore’s “It’s My Party,” “Judy’s Turn to Cry,” “She’s a Fool,” and “Maybe I Know.” Ogerman charted under his own name in 1965, including the album “Watusi Trumpets.” Ogerman also arranged and conducted Diana Krall’s 2001 album “The Look of Love.” (Figure 14)

 

Figure 14. Diana Krall in the middle between Michał Fita and Kuba Stankiewicz in Zabrze, Poland in October 2025

 

 

POST 190: FURTHER CONNECTIONS WITH RATIBOR’S “PHOTO-HELIOS” STUDIO, A MANUFACTURER OF CABINET CARDS

Note: In this post, I present newly acquired information about Ratibor’s former “Photo-Helios” studio, a one-time producer of cabinet cards. The proprietors were Hans and Emma Ogermann, the parents of Claus Ogerman (one “n”), a very famous musical arranger, conductor, and composer who made his name in America. Beyond being connected to Claus, I’ve been contacted by a few descendants of people who worked in the studio in the 1930s-1940s, one of whom shared photos taken inside. As readers will discover, these photos have allowed me to make connections to a lady once buried in Ratibor’s Jewish cemetery. There are multiple links I discuss.

Related Posts:

POST 13: THE FORMER JEWISH CEMETERY IN RATIBOR (RACIBÓRZ)

POST 13, POSTSCRIPT: THE FORMER JEWISH CEMETERY IN RATIBOR (RACIBÓRZ)

POST 72: FAMILY CABINET CARDS FROM RATIBOR & BERLIN PHOTO STUDIOS

POST 138: INTRIGUING DISCOVERIES ABOUT RATIBOR’S HELIOS PHOTO STUDIO

POST 139 (GUEShttps://wp.me/p8AZ95-43UT POST): THE STORY OF A JEWISH WOMAN BURIED IN RACIBÓRZ’S CATHOLIC CEMETERY

 

Cabinet cards were a popular 19th century photographic medium featuring a photographic print mounted on a sturdy cardstock, typically measuring 4.25 x 6.5 inches. They were larger than their predecessor, the carte-de-visite, and were named “cabinet” cards because they were meant to be displayed on shelves or in cabinets. Introduced in 1863, they were widely used for studio portraits and other subjects until the early 20th century, when smaller more portable cameras became popular. 

One of the producers of these cabinet cards in Ratibor (today: Racibórz, Poland), my father’s birthplace, was “Photo-Helios.” In December 2018, an English lady named Ms. Gisela Szpytko asked me about this studio explaining that her mother had worked there during the 1930s. Unfamiliar with this workshop, I turned to my now-deceased dear friend from Racibórz, retired lawyer and Silesian historian Pawel Newerla, for information. He sent me a postcard of Lange Straße (German name for “Long Street”) the street on which the studio was located (Figure 1a), known today as Ulica Dluga (Polish also for “Long Street”), with a fuzzy image of the “Fotografie Helios” store sign hanging in the distance. (Figure 1b) Pawel also sent me an advertisement for “Photo-Helios” from a 1936 Ratibor Address book (Figure 2), along with a page from a 1923 Ratibor Address Book listing all the town’s photo studios at the time. (Figures 3a-b) The latter identified the proprietor of Photo-Helios as Hans Ogermann, spelled with two “n’s.” More on this below.

 

Figure 1a. Postcard of Ratibor’s “Lange Straße” along which “Photo-Helios” was located at the far end of the street

 

Figure 1b. Pixilated closeup of “Fotografie Helios” store sign

 

Figure 2. Page from the 1936 Ratibor Address Book with the names of existing photo studios & photographers, listing “Photo-Helios” and its owner Hans Ogermann

 

Figure 3a. Cover of 1923 Ratibor Address Book listing existing photographic studios

 

Figure 3b. 1923 list of existing Ratibor photo studios

 

 

Personally owning a few cabinet cards produced in Ratibor (Figures 4a-b), though none by Photo-Helios, Ms. Szyptko’s query provided the inspiration for Post 72. Following its publication in January 2020, I expected this would be the end of the story. While hardly the most widely read of my posts, Post 72 has generated more comments than any other. Post 138 and Guest Post 139 by Magda Wawoczny, a PhD. student from Jagiellonian University in Kraków, Poland hailing from Racibórz, emanated from queries and related findings. And recent questions add to the intrigue surrounding Photo-Helios with the current post being the result.

 

Figure 4a. Front side of the cabinet card from “Oskar Krispien” photo studio in Ratibor showing my aunt Suzanne, my father Otto, and my uncle Fedor as children

 

Figure 4b. Back side of the cabinet card from the “Oskar Krispien” photo studio in Ratibor

 

Following publication of Post 72, in January 2021, I was contacted by Jakub “Kuba” Stankiewicz, the Director of Jazz Studies at the Academy of Music in Wrocław, Poland. Being approached by an academician, while not unprecedented, was curious. Kuba asked whether I knew Photo-Helios had been owned by Claus Ogerman’s parents? By then, I realized Hans Ogermann had been the proprietor but knew nothing about his son Claus Ogerman (1930-2016). (Figure 5) (Parenthetically, Claus’ surname has only one “n.”) To say I felt unread would be an understatement, particularly when Kuba told me that Claus was well-known and made his name in America. Readers can find him in Wikipedia but suffice it to say that Claus was an exceptionally gifted German arranger, conductor, and composer. He is best known for his work with Billie Holiday, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Frank Sinatra, Bill Evans, Michael Brecker, Barbra Streisand, Leslie Gore, Diana Krall, and many other “A-listers.”

 

Figure 5. Claus Ogerman (1930-2016) (photo credit: by httpswww.imdb.comnamenm0644659, Fair use, httpsen.wikipedia.orgwindex.phpcurid=58608757)

 

 

I will return later to my ongoing association with Kuba Stankiewicz, whom my wife and I met for the first time during our recent trip to Poland. 

The next connection to Photo-Helios came in May 2023 when a German lady named Ms. Jessica Nastos contacted me. Astonishingly, Jessica’s great-grandmother had also worked in the workshop during the 1930s-1940s. Jessica graciously sent me a series of photos including group pictures taken inside the studio from this period, with some of the subjects identified by name; Jessica also sent an image of a tattered envelope with the name and address of the business embossed on it. (Figure 6)

 

Figure 6. Business envelope from “Photo helios” formerly located along Ratibor’s “Lange Straße” (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

As I wrote in Post 138, Jessica informed me that her great-grandmother was a lady named Elzbieta “Lilly” Slawik, née Grzonka (1926-2016). When she told me this I was flabbergasted since I’d previously come across her great-grandmother’s name in a different context. Let me explain. Shortly before Jessica Nastos contacted me, Ms. Magda Wawoczny, the student from Jagiellonian University and the guest author of Post 139, had told me of her research on the former Jewish cemetery in Ratibor. In particular, she told me of her interest in a headstone belonging to a Minna Linzer, née Guttmann. 

To briefly remind readers, in Post 13 and Post 13, Postscript, I explained how the cemetery had been destroyed in 1973 by the Communist authorities seeking to erase all evidence of prior German presence in the area. Before it was destroyed, at the request of the city authorities, photo documentation of all the burials and headstones was made by a Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński. (Figure 7) The documentation is on file at the Muzeum w Raciborzu, including a photo of Minna Linzer, née Guttmann’s headstone. (Figure 8)

 

Figure 7. Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński, the Polish gentleman who at the request of city authorities documented all the tombs and burials in Ratibor’s Jewish cemetery prior to its liquidation in 1973

 

Figure 8. Photo of Minna Linzer, nee Guttmann’s headstone from Ratibor’s former Jewish cemetery, taken by Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński

 

As Magda wrote in Post 139 about the headstone in Ratibor’s Jewish cemetery: 

During my archival investigations, my attention was drawn to an application by a woman from Racibórz who requested permission from the city authorities to exhume the body of her grandmother Minna Linzer from Ratibor’s former Jewish cemetery and transfer it together with the tombstone to the Catholic cemetery in the Ostróg district on Rudzka street. The woman emphasized that in the face of the anticipated liquidation of the cemetery, she felt an obligation to save the grave of her grandmother that she had taken care of and maintained for many years.” 

The woman making the request was none other than Elizabeth (Elzbieta) “Lilly” Slawik, née Grzonka, Minna Linzer’s granddaughter. 

It was then I realized that my seemingly unrelated research into Photo-Helios overlapped with Magda’s investigation into one headstone from the former Jewish cemetery. I was thrilled when I noticed that among Jessica Nastos’ pictures was one of Elzbieta as an infant with her unmarried parents, the Jewish man Hans (Jan) Linzer and the Catholic woman Pauline Grzonka (Figure 9); there were also several other photos taken inside Photo-Helios that included Elzbieta. (Figures 10-13)

 

Figure 9. Elzbieta Grzonka as an infant in 1926 in Breslau (today: Wrocław, Poland) with her parents, Hans (Jan) Linzer and Pauline Grzonka (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

Figure 10. Elzbieta Grzonka with her mother Pauline Grzonka (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

Figure 11. Elzbieta Grzonka working in the lab at Photo-Helios (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

Figure 12. Group photo of young ladies at Photo-Helios with the older seated lady on left believed to be Emma Ogermann; Elzbieta is standing in the middle (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

Figure 13. Another group photo of staffers at Photo-Helios; Elzbieta is in the middle of the seated ladies below the only man in the group (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

Two points of clarification. 

Firstly, seeking to shield Elzbieta from antisemitism and the Nazis subsequent prohibition of marriages between Jews and non-Jews, Elzbieta’s parents never married though they symbolically exchanged rings as keepsakes. Pauline (1895-1971) and Elzbieta (1926-2016) survived the Holocaust, while Hans (Jan) Linzer (1901-1945) was murdered in Auschwitz, along with his father and two of his three siblings. 

Secondly, as Magda pointed out in Post 139, Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka’s application to Racibórz city authorities asking to exhume her grandmother’s grave was accompanied by a card with the inscription that read “eternal memory of those lost in the Auschwitz camp: Hermann Linzer, Jan Linzer, Małgorzata and Henryk Schiftan, Lota and Maks Tichauer.” (Figure 14) As readers can see on Minna Linzer’s headstone these names are inscribed on it. (Figure 15) They correspond to Minna’s husband Hermann, three of their four children, and two of their sons-in-law, all of whom were murdered in Auschwitz.

 

Figure 14. The card with family names that accompanied Elzbieta Grzonka’s application to Racibórz city authorities requesting permission to exhume her grandmother’s remains from the former Jewish cemetery

 

Figure 15. Minna Linzer’s headstone as it looks today with the names of her family who were murdered in the Holocaust

 

In May 2025, Jessica Nastos uncovered a video of an interview she conducted with her great-grandmother Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka (1926-2016) in May 2013 for a high school project entitled “Fear During the Nazi Regime.” She graciously shared a copy of the digitally remastered video with English subtitles, which unfortunately I’m unable to share with readers. Suffice it to say, it is very moving.

Two recent emails attest to the continued interest in Photo-Helios and the people associated with it. Both queries require follow-up. 

In mid-October 2025 I was contacted by a lady of Slovakian origin named Monika. She was recently searching for an old photo school in Ratibor when she stumbled on my blog Post 138. The reason for her interest is that her father Leopold “Leo” Simon (Figures 16a-b), who was also a photographer, lived in Ratibor from 1942 until 1944, and astonishingly apprenticed at Photo-Helios during that time! She was stunned when she recognized her father in one of the group pictures sent to me by Jessica Nastos, namely Figure 10 in Post 139 (Figure 17), a person I misidentified as Hans Ogermann, the owner of Photo Helios.

 

Figure 16a. Monika’s father, Leopold “Leo” Simon, in 1946 who apprenticed at Photo-Helios between 1942 and 1944 (front)

 

Figure 16b. Monika’s father, Leopold “Leo” Simon, in 1946 who apprenticed at Photo-Helios between 1942 and 1944 (back)

 

Figure 17. Leopold “Leo” Simon in a group photo taken at Photo-Helios when he apprenticed there; in Post 139, Figure 10, I mistakenly identified him as Hans Ogermann

 

I estimate Monika’s father Leo was born around 1928 and would have been between 14 and 16 years old when he worked at Photo-Helios.

Another recent contact is related to the Linzer family, a contact that has not yet fully panned out. As I mentioned above, Hans (Jan) Linzer had three siblings. (Figure 18) The youngest was Leo born in 1908, the only one of Hermann and Minna Linzer’s four children to survive the Shoah. In mid-September, a German lady named Ms. Stephanie Scheibl reached out to me. She mentioned a book and some old photographs she inherited from her grandmother that were in turn bequeathed to her by her father Leo Linzer!!! He may have inherited them from his parents Hermann and Minna Linzer!! Stephanie would of course be Leo’s great-granddaughter. There might be some rare images among Stephanie’s photos.

 

Figure 18. Hermann Linzer and Minna Linzer, nee Guttmann’s four children, from left to right, Hans (Jan), Leo, Małgorzata, and Lota; only Leo survived the Holocaust (photo courtesy of Jessica Nastos)

 

Let me say a few more words about Kuba Stankiewicz. Since first being introduced to Kuba in 2021, we’ve stayed in touch. Kuba’s hometown, Wrocław, Breslau as it was known during the German era, is a city where my Bruck family had longstanding ties. From time to time, I’ve asked Kuba whether German-era buildings connected to my family still exist, and Kuba has graciously investigated and occasionally even sent pictures. Periodically, I’ve referred readers or family members visiting Wrocław to Kuba or put him in touch with one of my local Wrocław contacts. We had always hoped to meet face-to-face, so prior to my recent visit to Poland, I proposed that we get together. Unfortunately, meeting in Wrocław was not possible since he was teaching a student workshop that week out-of-town in a place called Jastrzębie-Zdrój. 

Since our next stop after Wrocław was Racibórz, which is only about 30km north-northwest of Jastrzębie-Zdrój. Kuba suggested meeting in Racibórz on the 25th of August which worked perfectly. Prior to going for lunch, we took a stroll along Ulica Dluga, formerly Lange Straße where the Helios-Photo had once stood. Coincidentally, a photo shop sits in almost the same spot as the earlier studio though the current store bears no relationship to the earlier workshop. At lunch Kuba introduced my wife Ann and me to Michał Fita, Racibórz’s former Vice-Mayor, who happens to be a collector of Claus Ogerman-arranged discography. (Figure 19) Michał brought several of his most recent acquisitions to show us.

 

Figure 19. Group photo from left to right of Michał Fita, me, Kuba Stankiewicz, and my wife Ann Finan in Racibórz on the 25th of August 2025

 

During lunch Michał and Kuba discussed an upcoming conference they had planned in Racibórz for Claus Ogerman to introduce the current generation to the city’s long-lost son. It turns out that steps away from where we ate lunch stands an anodized aluminum interpretive panel showing the no-longer standing house where Claus Ogerman was born and grew up which was located on Racibórz’s Rynek or Market Square. (Figure 20)

 

Figure 20. Interpretive panel on Raciborz’s Market Square (Rynek) showing the no-longer existing house where Claus Ogerman grew up

 

The conference on Claus Ogerman took place in Raciborz on the 17th of October. I attach a YouTube interview Michał gave during the conference which is interpreted into English. 

Michał Fita organized another conference on Claus Ogerman’s Racibórz roots

Coincidentally, Diana Krall, whose music Claus Ogerman arranged, performed on the eve of the conference in the nearby Polish town of Zabrze (German: Hindenburg). Michal and Kuba attended the concert, met Diana backstage, and had their picture taken with her. (Figure 21) She was thrilled to learn that a conference was planned for Claus because with age she realizes what a genius he was.

 

Figure 21. Diana Krall in the middle between Michał Fita and Kuba Stankiewicz (other people not identified) in Zabrze, Poland on 16th October 2025

 

Each new contact about Photo-Helios adds to the intrigue. What makes the story even more compelling is how intertwined it is with the story of Minna Linzer, the Jewish lady reburied in Raciborz’s Catholic cemetery, because Minna’s granddaughter Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka worked in the photo studio. In the 15-minute interview Jessica Nastos did with her great-grandmother I learned it is largely because of Emma Ogermann’s intervention that Elzbieta, as a half-Jew and so-called mischling, was saved from deportation to a concentration camp. 

And, then one must not forget another connection that Magda Wawoczny discussed in Post 139. Not only did Elzbieta “Lilly” Grzonka look after her own grandmother’s grave in the former Jewish cemetery, but she also looked after Monica Lewinsky’s great-grandfather Salo Lewinsky’s grave (Figure 22) after the Lewinskys left Ratibor in the 1920s for El Salvador. As it happens, the Lewinsky and Linzer families were friends and remained so following the Lewinskys departure.

 

Figure 22. Photo of Salo Lewinsky’s headstone from Ratibor’s former Jewish cemetery, taken by Mr. Kazimierz Świtliński

 

Magda’s recent contact with Dr. Bernard Lewinsky, Monica’s father, has resulted in Bernard donating an extensive collection of postcards his father George Lewinsky (1903-1989) received while living in Ratibor. (Figure 23) Magda recently delivered a presentation on these postcards and her findings. During her research at the Leo Baeck Institute in New York, Magda found a digitized songbook from the former Ratibor synagogue, music performed in conjunction with her presentation.

 

Figure 23. Enlarged copies of some of the postcards donated by Dr. Bernard Lewinsky to Racibórz on display in the chapel at the Piast Castle (Zamek Piastkowski)

 

In coming weeks, I hope to learn more about Photo-Helios since the former workshop seems to generate riveting new links! As regular readers know, these often-unexpected connections get me quite excited!