Note: In this post, I relate the forensic work I undertook to learn the fate of Franz Pincus/Pauly, husband of Lisa Pauly, one of Germany’s “silent heroes” during WWII. Franz Pincus and my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck were second cousins, and though Franz died in 1941 before my uncle was forced “underground” in 1942 by the Nazis, Franz’s widow sheltered my uncle for periods during his 30 months in hiding.
On February 3, 1947, Elisabeth “Lisa” Pauly née Krüger, one of my uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck’s protectors in the course of his thirty months spent “underground” eluding the Nazis in Berlin during WWII, wrote a letter of reference for him. (Figure 1) In this recommendation, Lisa Pauly mentioned that her husband had died in 1941, without naming him or specifying a cause of death. By referring to the Pauly Stammbaum, family tree (Figure 2), I was able to figure out her husband was Franz Pincus, although for a very long time I was uncertain this was really Lisa Pauly’s spouse. As I explained to readers in the original post, I was only able to confirm “Franz Pincus” and “Franz Pauly” were the same person by systematically going through 1920’s and 1930’s Berlin Address Books checking both names residing at the same address. Employing this approach, as discussed in the original post, I eventually found a “Franz Pincus” living at Deidesheimer Str. 25 in Friedenau in 1928 (Figure 3), and by 1930 discovered a “Franz Pauly” residing at that same address. (Figure 4) For whatever reason Franz changed to using his mother’s maiden name, though both Pincus and Pauly were Jewish.
Having uncovered Lisa Pauly’s husband’s name from the Pauly Stammbaum, I next turned to ancestry.com to see what more I might learn. As alluded to in the previous paragraph, I found Franz Pincus/Pauly listed in multiple Berlin Address Books in the 1920’s and 1930’s. I also found a family tree on ancestry.com providing his purported place and date of birth, in Posen, Germany [today: Poznan, Poland] on the 23rd of October 1898 (Figure 5a); this same tree showed that Franz Pincus’s sister, Charlotte Lieselotte “Lilo” Pincus, had been born in Posen on the 30th of December 1895. (Figure 5b)
When I stumbled upon a picture of Franz and Lilo as children, attending the 1901 wedding of their aunt Maria Pauly to Alexander “Axel” Pohlmann [see Post 57], where Franz looks decidedly older than his sister (Figures 6a-b), I knew Franz and Lilo’s year of births were incorrect. This allows me to reiterate a point I’ve repeatedly made to readers to question vital data found in family trees on ancestry and elsewhere unless you have the original documents to corroborate dates. So, while I was able to conclude Franz and Lilo Pincus were not born, respectively, in 1898 and 1895, I had not yet resolved in what year they’d been born.
I then remembered the Pinkus Family Collection [See Post 44] archived at the Leo Baeck Institute in New York which is accessible online. Thinking this might include a chart with Franz and Lilo Pincus’s names, along with that of their parents, I scoured the online documents, and eventually stumbled on a page with all their names. (Figure 7) This page confirmed what I had suspected, namely, that their years of birth had been transposed. It turns out, Franz Pincus was born in 1895, and his sister Lilo in 1898; the family tree on ancestry.com, however, correctly noted their respective dates of birth, the 23rd of October for Franz, and the 30th of December for Lilo. This same page also noted Lisa Pauly née Krüger’s place and date of birth, in Berlin on the 20th of December 1890. With the help of Mr. Peter Hanke, affiliated with “forum.danzig.de,” I was able to track down copies of both Franz and Lilo Pincus’s original birth certificates. (Figures 8-9) So far, however, I’ve been unable to pinpoint which borough in Berlin Lisa Pauly was born so have not found her birth certificate.
Having located Franz Pincus’s birth certificate, I now set out to try and find his death certificate. From the 1947 letter of recommendation his wife Lisa had written for my Uncle Fedor, I only knew he’d died in 1941, and assumed to begin with that he had died at Maßmannstraße 11, where he and Lisa Pauly resided at the time in the Steglitz Borough of Berlin. I erroneously assumed locating his death register listing in the Landesarchiv Berlin database would be relatively straight-forward; I was sorely disappointed.
At the risk of sounding pedantic, let me explain to readers how and where I was eventually able to locate Franz Pincus’s death register listing. This requires reviewing findings I discussed in Post 48, the publication describing Dr. Ernst Neisser’s final days in September-October 1942 in Berlin after he and his cousin Luise Neisser, with whom he lived, were told to report to an old age transport. To remind readers, the elderly Ernst and Luise Neisser opted to commit suicide rather than report for deportation. Because Luise died immediately after taking poison, I easily located her death register listing under the records of Berlin-Charlottenburg, but I was unable to find Ernst’s name listed in the records of this Berlin borough. Ernst, I later learned from a letter his daughter wrote in 1947, lingered for several days before dying, so I reckoned he might have died in another borough. I eventually figured out the only place in Berlin where Jews could still receive medical attention by 1942, or where they were brought to die in case of “failed” suicide attempts, was the Jüdisches Krankenhaus Berlin, the Berlin Jewish Hospital, in the Wedding Borough of Berlin. Having worked this out, I was then able to find Ernst Neisser’s death register listing under records for 1942 in the Wedding Borough and order his death certificate from the Landesarchiv Berlin.
In trying to track down Franz Pincus’s death register listing, I decided to apply the same logic and “assume” he might also have died in the Wedding Borough of Berlin for unknown reasons. Obviously, I had no way of knowing then whether Franz Pincus’s death ultimately was from a “failed” suicide attempt, war wounds, fatal disease, or natural causes. Nonetheless, my logic turned out to be sound, and, as in the case of Ernst Neisser, I located Franz Pincus’s death register listing under 1941 in the Wedding Borough. (Figures 10a-b) Naturally, I ordered a copy of Franz’s original death certificate uncertain what new information it might include.
Franz’s typed death certificate arrived several weeks later. (Figure 11a) My cousin translated the form and it included several new pieces of information. (Figure 11b) Franz had been given the added middle name of “Israel” as was required of all Jewish-born males during the Nazi era. It confirms he died on the 2nd of August 1941 in the Berlin Jewish Hospital of a ruptured appendix. And, at the bottom of the certificate, it shows he’d gotten married on the 12th of May 1928 in Berlin’s Friedenau Borough, or so my cousin and I both read.
Armed with a new vital event to check out, I again immediately turned to the Landesarchiv Berlin database trying to locate Franz Pincus and Elisabeth Krüger’s marriage register listing. Surprisingly, I was unable to find it even though the precise date and number of the certificate, Nr. 241, were furnished. I’ve previously encountered this situation, even with exact dates and specific Berlin boroughs in hand, where it is not always possible to track down listings of vital events. The reason for this is not clear to me.
Just in the last few days, collecting and organizing newly acquired information for this post, I reexamined Franz’s typed death certificate hoping something new might reveal itself, and indeed it did. While the marriage year clearly seemed to be 1928, I began to question whether the typed “8” might not be a “3,” so checked the marriage listings under “K” (for Krüger) for 1923 and was rewarded by finding Elisabeth Krüger and Franz Pincus’s names in the Berlin-Friedenau Landesarchiv database. (Figures 12a-b) I’ve now ordered and await the actual marriage certificate but detected a notation in the register that Franz Pincus changed his surname to Pauly, a footnote obviously made some years after Franz got married.
A recent check in MyHeritage for Franz Pincus yielded a “German Minority Census, 1939” form which corroborates some of the aforementioned information, namely, Franz’s dates of birth and death, and he and his wife’s ages and residence in Berlin-Steglitz in 1939. (Figure 13) The information from MyHeritage was late in coming and might have short circuited other searches I did.
Franz Pincus’s sister, Charlotte “Lilo” Pincus, I discovered from ancestry.com rode out the war in Scotland; as a German foreigner, she was briefly interned before being released and allowed to teach. (Figure 14) She returned to Berlin after the war. A small metal sign bearing her name has been placed at the Christus-Friedhof in Mariendorf, Berlin, showing she died on the 6th of September 1995. (Figure 15)
From time to time, I stumble across a family letter or diary mentioning the people about whom I write. In writing this post, I recalled a brief mention of Franz and Lilo Pincus in a letter Suse Vogel née Neisser, daughter of the Dr. Ernst Neisser discussed above, wrote in 1972 to her first cousin, Klaus Pauly. (Figure 16) Klaus developed the Pauly Stammbaum, and he asked Suse Vogel’s assistance in identifying some of the people in the picture taken at Maria and Axel Pohlmann’s 1901 wedding. This included Franz and Lilo Pincus (Figure 17), and translated below is what Suse Vogel wrote about them:
“. . .The remaining little dwarfs bottom left: the upper one is obviously Franz Pincus-Pauly, below probably his sister Liselotte (is she calling herself Charlotte now?) I confess that I disliked her since childhood contrary to the nice ‘Blondel,’ her brother. And I was in agreement about that with bosom friend Aenne. Later, but long before Hitler-times, I declared to myself that Franz and Lilo were raised by their father strictly positivist. To my childish horror they did not ‘believe’ in anything. So, they were a priori ‘without faith, hope and love’ – sounds very presumptuous, but that’s how I felt as a young girl.”
While Suse Vogel’s words are not particularly complimentary, the mere fact I could find anything written about Franz and his sister, provides a fleeting glimpse into these long-gone ancestors and brings them to life in a small way.
Remark: I’ve relabeled the titles of the two previous posts dealing with the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik (Sugar Factory) (Figures 1-2), Posts 36 and 55, to make clear to readers this post is merely another part of a story that continues to evolve and grow. Woinowitz [today: Wojnowice, Poland], is located outside Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland], the town in Upper Silesia where my father, Dr. Otto Bruck, was born in 1907. Lately, I’ve acquired multiple new documents and photographs from family, friends, and archives about the factory and its heirs, and anticipate receiving more in coming weeks, possibly enough materials to expand the story to five or six separate posts.
In Post 36, including the Postscript, I provided some historical background and maps, including information on the original family owners of the sugar plant. I fully anticipated the original post, now Part I, would be a “one-and-done” publication. This unexpectedly changed when I was contacted earlier this year through my Blog by a Danish gentleman, Allan Grutt Hansen, with documentation on the compensation paid by the then-West German government in 1966 to his ancestors for the forced sale of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik by the Nazis around 1937. I detailed this surprising development in Post 55, now Part II of the tale. Suspecting the German government has indemnified what amounts to only one-sixth of the heirs propelled further forensic investigations and resulted in findings that provide the basis for this Blog post.
One additional point I want to emphasize to readers. I have “no skin in this game,” that’s to say, I am not entitled to any compensation that may eventually be meted out for the forced sale of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik. While I hope the rightful heirs eventually receive reparations for harm done to their ancestors and will strive to facilitate this outcome, this post is primarily a story describing the scientific technique I applied to uncover relevant ancestral evidence that may buttress the family’s claims.
Note: In this post, I identify the first-generation heirs of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik, and briefly return to the topic of compensation for the forced sale of the sugar plant. I also discuss the historic documents obtained since publication of Post 55, alluded to in that post, that lead to some unexpected discoveries.
Following publication of Post 55, now Part II of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik saga, I pursued other avenues of investigation to identify the first-generation heirs of the sugar factory and learn who, if any, among them was indemnified for the forced sale of the plant. With the help of living next-of-kin, I’ve compiled the following table of the two original owners and their immediate descendants, along with their vital statistics:
Several things are worth noting. First, I presume from the Woinowitz compensation package provided to me by Allan Grutt Hansen (Figure 6) that when the West German government indemnified Allan’s ancestors in 1966 they were aware of six possible heirs. This presumption is based on the total compensation calculated at the time, 450,000 Reichmark (RM), which was divided by six, with each “share” worth 75,000 RM. (Figure 7a) For reasons possibly having to do with how much was paid out in the 1930’s by the Nazi overlords to the factory’s owners, this 75,000 RM was multiplied by a factor of 1.9 theoretically entitling each heir to 142,500 RM (Figure 7b) (i.e., in January 2017, a 1937 Reichsmark would have been worth approximately $4.30). Second, the six first-generation heirs likely correspond to those identified in the table above. The original owners of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik, along with their wives, died well before the Nazis came to power and the sugar plant’s sale was forced. Third, we can see that apart from first-generation heir Helene Goldenring née Hirsch, all other first-generation heirs were deceased by 1966 when some compensation was paid out. Fourth, we know that Hedwig Schück née Jendricke’s descendants, as a result of her marriage to Dr. Erich Schück, received some minimal compensation, 2,500 RM split unequally four ways (Figure 7c); Hedwig’s relatives would have been second- and third-generation heirs. And, finally, based on conversations I’ve had with third- and fourth-generation heirs of the factory’s original owners, Adolph Schück and Sigmund Hirsch, it appears that five-sixth of the compensation was never meted out, despite concerted efforts by several of the descendants.
The package provided to me by Allan Grutt Hansen identifies the German office that handled the compensation case, namely, the “Kreis Oldenburg (Holstein) Der Landrat,” the District Administrator for Oldenburg in the German State of Holstein. (Figure 7d) After a few failed attempts to establish contact with the administrative office in Holstein that may have handled the proceedings, I was directed to the Bundesarchiv in Beyreuth, Germany, the Federal State Archives in the city of Beyreuth, in northern Bavaria. I’ve provided them with the list of all the possible heirs to the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik, requested they tell me about indemnification they may have received, and now await a reply; oddly, the archive can only research by individual names, not by the name of the Woinowitz factory, so it’s unclear what, if any, documentation I may eventually obtain.
Towards the end of Post 55, I told readers about having found the death register listings for Dr. Erich Schück and his wife Hedwig Schück née Jendricke in the online Landesarchiv Berlin database, the latter of which was the subject of Post 49. To remind readers, I found Hedwig’s date and place of death in the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik compensation package given to me by Allan Hurst Hansen; it showed she died on the 9th of June 1960 (Figure 7a) in the Wilmersdorf Borough of Berlin, making locating her in the Landesarchiv Berlin database relatively straight-forward. Finding her husband Dr. Erich Schück in the database was slightly more involved. I’d been told growing up he’d committed suicide sometime after the forced sale of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik. Operating under the assumption he’d moved to Berlin after selling the sugar plant, further assuming he’d lived in Berlin-Wilmersdorf, where his wife died in 1960, and finally theorizing he’d died in the late 1930’s or early 1940’s, I scoured the death register for Wilmersdorf and eventually discovered his name listed under the year 1938.
As explained in Post 49, finding names in the death register listing does not give you immediate access to the underlying death certificates; these must be ordered from the Landesarchiv Berlin, and since publication of the Post 55, I’ve received these documents.
The death certificates for Erich and Hedwig, as readers can observe for themselves, are typed, thus easily decipherable even though written in German. (Figures 8-9) I learned several interesting things from these certificates. In the case of Dr. Erich Schück, his death certificate identified his cause of death, “todesursache,” as “Kranzaderverkalkung, Zuckerkrankheit, Herzschlag,” that’s to say, as arteriosclerosis, diabetes and heart disease. As mentioned above, Dr. Schück’s relatives had always maintained he committed suicide. Notwithstanding the stated causes of death, I still believe his death was self-inflicted. Let me explain why. The attending doctor who signed his name to the death certificate was a Dr. Alfred Mamlok, who it so happens was Dr. Schück’s first cousin. Perhaps mindful of the need for decorum or financial necessity, Dr. Mamlok opted to state natural causes as the reason for his cousin’s death. We may never know.
I’d been aware for some time that Sigmund Hirsch, co-owner of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik, had three children with his wife Selma Hirsch née Braun, two daughters, Helene and Frieda, and one son, Robert. (Figure 10) I knew both daughters had been born in Ratibor but had never found any concrete evidence of when and where the son had been born, though I’d known for some time he’d died in Valparaiso, Chile in 1943. Then, recently, I again searched Robert Hirsch in ancestry.com, and came upon a promising lead for a person by that name who once lived in an unexpected place at some remove from Ratibor called Mittweida, Germany, promising only because it showed this person was born in Ratibor on the 31st of October 1881. (Figures 11a-b) The year comported with the timeframe his two siblings had been born, respectively, in 1880 and 1883. Still, uncertain what to make of this, I asked Mr. Paul Newerla, my historian friend from Ratibor, whether he could check in the civil register in Racibórz for the Robert Hirsch born in 1881, which he graciously agreed to do. Paul located this person’s birth certificate and confirmed that he was indeed Sigmund and Selma’s son, born, like his sisters, in Ratibor. (Figure 12) Another mystery solved. A side benefit of this request to my friend Paul is that he also found and sent me the birth certificate for Erich Schück, who it turns out was born in 1878 in Ratibor only three years before Robert Hirsch. (Figure 13)
Erich and Hedwig’s respective death certificates indicated their date and place of birth, but more importantly provided the certificate numbers of their birth certificates. (Figures 8-9) Erich was born on the 13th of April 1878 in Ratibor, Germany, while his future wife Hedwig Jendricke was born on the 6th of December 1890 in a place called Gollantsch, Germany [today: Gołańcz, Poland]; On the off chance that familysearch.org might have the birth records automated for Gollantsch, I checked their online catalog, and, amazingly, found Hedwig’s birth certificate matching the number shown on her death certificate. (Figures 14a-b)
Both Erich and Hedwig Schück’s death certificates indicate they were married on the 25th of June 1935 in Berlin-Charlottenburg. (Figures 8-9) This was a source of potential new information, so naturally I ordered their marriage certificate from the Landesarchiv Berlin; it arrived several weeks later, but unlike Erich and Hedwig’s death certificates, it was handwritten. (Figures 15a-c) I asked one of my German cousins for a translation, which he happily provided. The marriage certificate included one new piece of information whose significance I had no reason to fully appreciate at the time, namely, Hedwig’s “middle” name, “Lange.” Often, in the Landesarchiv Berlin marriage registers, a widowed or divorced spouse who remarries has her first husband’s surname recorded. Such was the case with Erich and Hedwig’s 1935 marriage certificate, which showed Hedwig’s first husband had been someone with the surname Lange (i.e, Hedwig Lange née Jendricke).
It took my third cousin once-removed, Larry Leyser (Figure 16), to fully unravel the significance of this new piece of information. Briefly, some background. In recent years, Larry has had the opportunity to scan a large collection of family photos and documents from his deceased great-aunt now in the possession of his second cousin. As occasionally also happens with me, even with labeled photos, neither of us is immediately able to recognize all the names nor ascertain a possible family connection; the photos go into what I term my “back-burner” file for future contemplation. Once I shared the translation of Erich and Hedwig Schück’s marriage certificate with Larry, it triggered an “aha!” moment to the previously unknown “Lange” name. In Larry’s own back-burner file, he discovered four labeled photos of Hedwig Lange from 1930, including one of Larry’s father, Kurt Leyser, with two of Kurt’s first cousins. (Figures 17-18) Beyond now knowing what Hedwig Schück looked like, it confirms that Hedwig was known to her future second husband Erich while she was either still married to, divorced or widowed from her first husband. Also, it was known that Hedwig was an aspiring actress or singer, and two of the photos do indeed appear to have been professionally staged. (Figures 19-20) It is beyond amazing that Larry was able to relate photos of a previously unfamiliar Hedwig Lange to the broader story of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik.
One final thing I found on Erich and Hedwig Schück’s marriage certificate of great personal interest were the names and addresses of two witnesses, specifically, “Franz Kayser” and “Fritz Leyser.” (Figure 15b) Readers should refer to the table at the outset of this post to see that Adolph Schück’s two daughters’ married names were, respectively, Leyser and Kayser. Franz Kayser (Figure 21), whom I met once as an adolescent in New York, was the father of my third cousin John Kayser (Figure 22), while Fritz Leyser (Figure 23) was Larry Leyser’s grandfather. It was astounding to find the surnames on one historic document from Berlin of three families, Schück, Leyser and Kayser (Figure 24), all connected to the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik outside Ratibor.
The point of telling readers about these discoveries is not to bore you senseless, but rather to emphasize that reconstructing one’s own family tree and finding relevant certificates and clues can be a painstaking process that sometimes requires taking baby steps to make progress. Occasionally, a single name or document can open a plethora of opportunities.
Regular readers know how much I like uncovering “connections” in my forensic investigations, so beyond finding photos of Hedwig Lange-Schück, I discovered one other serendipitous association. I previously mentioned the physician who signed Dr. Erich Schück’s death certificate was his first cousin, Dr. Alfred Mamlok. (Figure 8) It so happens that Alfred Mamlok (Figure 25) was the son-in-law of Sigmund Hirsch, co-owner of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik. After publishing Post 55, Part II, of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik story, Larry Leyser put me in touch with Alfred Mamlok’s grandson, Dr. Robert Mamlok (Figure 26), living in Texas. I alluded to this at the outset. It turns out that Dr. Erich Mamlok (Figure 27), Dr. Alfred Mamlok’s son, coordinated with two other second- generation heirs of the sugar plant and corresponded extensively with the German government on the issue of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik compensation in the 1950’s but, apparently, they were never successful in being indemnified. The correspondence is in German, Polish, and Spanish, and eventually I hope to obtain a copy of the complete file from Robert Mamlok and translate it to learn why compensation was never meted out to his family. It’s odd that some of the sugar plant owners’ heirs failed in their efforts to be compensated during the 1950’s but that some heirs were eventually indemnified in 1966. I hope to eventually learn why.
Note: In this post, I describe a recent contact I had with a reader of my Blog who was able to partially answer the question of whether the German government ever paid restitution to the heirs of the Woinowitz sugar plant for the forced sale of the factory by the Nazis during the 1930’s. I also discuss some of what I’ve learned about the heirs, detail some of the documentary evidence I’ve uncovered, and raise new questions now that earlier ones have been answered.
When I launched my family history Blog two years ago, I expressed hope readers would contact me with information about people and topics I would write about over time and/or establish ancestral connections between our families based on these accounts. This has happened on various occasions, and this Blog post is about one such encounter. It is a particularly satisfying story because it relates to several earlier posts, resolves a few mysteries I was never previously able to unravel, and establishes connections between events and people I earlier viewed as unrelated. Yet, like the Lernaean Hydra, one question gets answered and two “grow” in its place.
This story really begins when I was a youth. My father, Dr. Otto Bruck (Figure 1), came to America in 1948, at the age of 41. He never again worked as a dentist because the American authorities wanted him to completely reestablish his dental credentials, something he felt he was too old to do. Instead, he went to work for one of his cousins, Franz Kayser (1897-1983) (Figure 2), who ran an import business. When this cousin’s wife left him and got remarried with Curt L. Sterner, who similarly ran an import business, my father became part of the “package.” For the remainder of his working days, my father worked for Mr. Sterner.
Both Franz Kayser and Curt Sterner were Jewish and escaped Nazi Germany, as did Mrs. Catherine “Ulrike” Sterner (1908-2005) (Figure 3), the former Mrs. Kayser, also German though not Jewish. Growing up, my family would occasionally socialize with Mr. and Mrs. Sterner. On various occasions over the years, Ulrike would tell the story of her first husband’s uncle who had refused the Nazis offer to leave Germany in the 1930’s with 80 percent of his wealth intact. This was contrary to Ulrike’s advice, which was rejected on account of her juvenescence and presumed naivety. She maintained the uncle and his family could have lived very comfortably on the remaining money. Instead, he wound up committing suicide when it was no longer possible for German Jews to leave, with or without their money. Whether Ulrike ever mentioned this uncle’s name, I can’t recall.
Ulrike and Franz Kayser had one son together, John Kayser. (Figure 4) Ulrike was prescient and could see what awaited Jews who stayed in Germany. She traveled to England to give birth to John in 1938 so that he would have a British passport; while the family briefly returned to Berlin following John’s birth, they quickly fled to America after Kristallnacht. John and I are third cousins, and he provided the name of his father’s uncle, Dr. Erich Schück, Uncle Schück as he was familiarly known. (Figure 5)
Fast forward. Through my Blog, I recently received an email from a gentleman in Denmark, Mr. Allan Grutt Hansen. (Figure 6) He explained that his great-aunt, his grandmother’s sister that is, Hedwig Schück née Jendricke, had been married to Dr. Erich Schück. I have Dr. Schück in my family tree, though I never knew he’d been married. While this obviously expands my family tree, I was more interested in what it might reveal about the Schücks who once co-owned the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik outside Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] that I wrote about in Post 36.
Mr. Hansen is an avid genealogist and visits places associated with his family in Germany and Poland. This year he and his wife visited Upper Silesia, including Ratibor. As he’s done in the past, he did an Internet query on the still-standing Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik (Figure 7) outside Ratibor before his trip but, unlike earlier searches, this time landed upon my recent Blog post on the subject. Ergo, his email to me. As an aside, I learned, to my pleasure, that Allan used my Blog posts as a guide to some places he visited in Silesia.
In Post 36, I explained that Dr. Erich Schück’s father, Adolph Schück (Figure 8), had been partners with one of his brothers-in-law, Sigmund Hirsch, in the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik; I’m unsure whether they were equal partners. Adolph died in 1916 and seemingly his shares passed into the hands of his three children, including his only son Erich. It’s unclear who inherited Sigmund’s stake in the business when he died in 1920, although it’s likely his two married daughters, Henrietta and Helene Hirsch (Figure 9), did. Though the factory was shuttered sometime in the 1920’s for economic reasons, the families retained ownership. To remind readers, I was never previously able to resolve the question of whether the Schück and Hirsch families were compensated by the German government for the sale or confiscation of the property after the Nazis came to power in 1933. My friend Mr. Paul Newerla (Figure 10), Silesian historian, however, affirmed that during his days working as an attorney he transacted a legal sale of the sugar factory from rightful owners. This is where things stood until I was contacted by Mr. Allan Grutt Hansen from Denmark.
Allan was not only able to answer the question of German restitution, but he provided documentation on how monies were meted out to his ancestors; he sent me the eight pages of the restitution agreement, naturally in German, detailing how his branch of the family was indemnified for sale of the sugar factory. There are specifics I’m still trying to understand and additional records I’m currently working to obtain, but the broad outline is becoming clearer.
The written materials Allan sent me deals only with the one-sixth of the estate involving his ancestors. The West German government ostensibly compensated all eligible heirs in 1966 for the forced sale of the sugar factory in September 1936. If my understanding is accurate, compensation paid out in 1966 was based on what the factory would have sold for in 1936 had the sale been voluntary. It appears the value of the factory in 1936 was estimated in 1966 to have been about 450,000 Reichsmark (RM) (i.e., in January 2017, a 1937 Reichsmark would have been worth approximately $4.30). This figure was divided into six equal shares of 75,000 RM, which likely represented the number of eligible heirs and/or “estates.” (Figures 11a-b)
This figure was “adjusted” upward in 1966 by multiplying the 75,000 RM by 1.9 “boosting” the value of Dr. Erich Schück’s shares to 142,500 RM; perhaps this was done to offset the ridiculously high “wealth tax” assessed in 1936 by the Nazis that reduced the amount he actually received. However, Dr. Schück’s heirs only reaped 2,500 RM in 1966 because 140,000 RM had already been disbursed in 1936. (Figure 11c) This only makes sense to me if Erich was the only heir to receive monies from sale of the sugar plant in 1936. If so, the West German government may have attempted to rectify this “oversight” in 1966 by paying out equal portions of 142,500 RM to each of the five other heirs or their descendants. Until the complete restitution package is in hand, it’s unknown how much was paid out in 1936 and to whom, and how much in 1966 and again to whom. Watch this space for further explanation.
Examining the documentation provided by Allan Grutt Hansen, formal compensation proceedings were apparently initiated in the early 1960’s in Hansestadt Lübeck (Figure 11a), the Hanseatic city of Lübeck, in the northern German state of Schleswig-Holstein. Hedwig Schück was probably no longer alive at the time, having passed away on the 9th of June 1960, at a then-undetermined location. I’ve already told readers Dr. Erich Schück committed suicide, place and date also then-undetermined. I’ll discuss below how details in the restitution package allowed me to track down the place they died, and, in the case of Dr. Schück, the year he died.
The documentation on the one-sixth of the compensation doled out to Allan’s family lists by name all the heirs and their shares. These included: Anna Johannsen née Brügge (1/12th share); Sophie Dalstrand née Brügge (1/12th share); Christian Brügge (1/24th share); and Helmuth Brügge (1/24th share). (Figure 11d) Let me briefly explain how these people are related to Dr. Erich Schück.
As previously mentioned, Dr. Erich Schück was married to Hedwig Schück née Jendricke. Hedwig’s mother, Anna Pelagia Jendricke (1873-1953), had her out-of-wedlock in 1889 when she was only 16 years old. Possibly, because the family came from a small town in Poland, Gołańcz, with conservative values they pretended Hedwig was Anna’s sister rather than her illegitimate daughter, thus the maiden name “Jendricke.” Anna would eventually get married to a Christian Brügge (1853-1926) with whom she had four additional children. (Figure 12)
In any case, Anna Johannsen and Sophie Dalstrand were sisters-in-law of Dr. Erich Schück, while Christian and Helmuth Brügge were two of his nephews. All four of Dr. Schück’s heirs were related through marriage to Hedwig Schück née Jendricke.
Allan provided some historical background to clarify where his Brügge and Jendricke lineages came from and how, after WWI, geo-political factors influenced why the Brügges wound up in Denmark and the Jendrickes ended up in Germany. This is important for understanding why some members of Allan’s family were so German-minded, and how it influenced their actions during WWII. I’ll return to this shortly. While not directly relevant to restitution for the forced sale of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik, it establishes some context for understanding the present-day borders of Denmark, Germany, and Poland, and by extension other European countries. (Figure 13)
Allan’s Brügge ancestors come from the Danish-German border region of Schleswig, divided today between Germany and Denmark. His Jendricke family comes from the Polish-German border region of western Poland. Schleswig was originally entirely Danish, while western Poland was Polish, but after several hundred years of German influence and pressure from German authorities in both areas, western Poland (as well as northern Poland) and southern Denmark became German. A war was fought between the Danes and the Germans in 1864 when the Danish government sought to reunite the whole of Schleswig under Danish control; the Danes were defeated and wound up losing 40 percent of their land and population. Denmark only recovered the northern half of Schleswig in 1920 following a plebiscite asking the residents whether they wanted to be Danish or German.
In the 1890’s, Allan’s Danish-minded great-grandfather, Christian Brügge (1853-1926) (Figure 14) apparently traveled to western Poland and found his wife, Anna Pelagia née Jendricke, in Gołańcz, Poland; they settled in Flensburg in south Schleswig, which today is in Germany, on the German-Danish border. When south Schleswig was not restored to Denmark in 1920 (Figure 15), Christian Brügge immediately moved his family to Copenhagen in Denmark. Allan’s great-grandfather wrote an article for a Flensburg newspaper promising to return once south Schleswig again became part of Denmark. It never has.
Western and northern Poland had already been incorporated into German Prussia, when Prussia, Austro-Hungary and Russia divided the rest of Poland among them, and Poland ceased to exist for 123 years between 1796 and 1919. Following WWI, between 1919 until 1939, Poland regained its independence until Hitler and Stalin started WWII by again dividing Poland. Following the war, Poland never regained its eastern half (now a part of Belarus and Ukraine), and instead Poland was “parallel-shifted” westward, and Poland was compensated by regaining western and northern Poland. This redrawing of the map resulted in 7 million Poles being deported from the former eastern part of Poland to western and northern Poland, and 12 million Germans from the latter areas being deported to Germany. This was ethnic cleansing on a massive scale.
Let’s return to the story of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik. According to Allan, Lübeck, where compensation proceedings were initiated, may not have been an accidental location. Let me explain and tell readers at the outset this involves “skeletons in the closet,” so to speak. Anna “Anni” Johannsen née Brügge, who received 1/12th of the compensation that was meted out in 1966, was married to a Bende Johannsen. (Figure 16) Because both were German-minded and eager to make Denmark German, they supported the Nazis. They worked at the Gestapo headquarters in Copenhagen during WWII, a place called the “Shell House” because it had been confiscated from Shell Corporation during the war. Anni translated forced confessions from captured Danish freedom fighters, while her husband worked in an administrative position. While neither was ever convicted of directly torturing or killing anyone, Anni as a German citizen was expelled from Denmark after the war, and her Danish husband Bende left with her, with both eventually settling in the Holstein-Oldenburg- Lübeck area, in a town called Neustadt. If Anni initiated the compensation proceedings after her sister’s death in 1960, as seems likely, this may explain why it was handled by the “Landesrat Oldenburg (Holstein).” Regardless, it’s an irony the ardent Nazi Anni benefited from the expropriation of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik.
Regular readers know I always try to track down historic documents to bolster my account of events. Immediately after establishing contact with Allan, I asked him for a picture of his great-aunt Hedwig and vital data about her. I quickly learned he had no photos of her, no idea where she’d died, and no letters or personal papers belonging to her; if Hedwig maintained a relationship with her mother and half-siblings, it appears it was at best a casual one. My question, however, prompted Allan to re-examine the compensation documents, and there he discovered Hedwig had lived on one of the poshest streets in Berlin.
In Post 49, I described to readers how to use the challenging Landesarchiv Berlin database to search for vital records, and the importance of knowing which of Berlin’s 12 boroughs a vital event took place. In the absence of knowing for certain which borough an event took place, I ALWAYS begin by looking at records for the well-heeled borough of Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf, where virtually all my Jewish ancestors lived and/or worked. Knowing the exact date Hedwig Schück died and knowing she had lived in a “posh” Berlin district, I used this same approach, and lo-and-behold, I discovered her name in the Wilmersdorf death register listing for the year 1960. (Figures 17a-b)
The search for her husband Dr. Erich Schück was more challenging since I had no idea when or where he’d killed himself. John Kayser, Erich’s grandnephew, assumed he’d died in Ratibor, while I’d always assumed, he’d committed suicide in Berlin. Knowing from the restitution file the Nazis had forced the sale of the Woinowitz Zuckerfabrik in 1936, I could see no reason why Erich would have stayed in Ratibor following the sale of the sugar plant. Most of my relatives, living in smaller communities, who lost their positions or businesses in such places after the Nazis came to power, quickly moved to Berlin; there, at least for a time, they could get “lost” in the relative anonymity of a larger city. Both my father and uncle relocated to Berlin from smaller towns after they lost their dental practices during the 1930’s.
I began by searching for Dr. Erich Schück in ancestry.com, and was rewarded by finding him listed in three Berlin Address Books, respectively, for 1936, 1937 and 1938, living at Landhausstrasse 37 in the Wilmersdorf borough of Berlin (Figure 18); the 1936 Address Book also lists a “Frau Dr. Schück,” Erich’s wife, living at the same address. I did not find him listed in any Berlin directories after 1938 but didn’t automatically assume he’d died that year. Most of my Jewish ancestors living in Berlin told to report for deportation were ordered to do so in 1942 and killed themselves that year.
Having narrowed Dr. Schück’s residence to Berlin-Wilmersdorf in 1938, I began scouring the Landesarchiv Berlin death listings for that borough from that year forward; in short order, I discovered his name in the 1938 register. The only surprise is while I’d been told by family that he was a medical doctor, I discovered he was actually a “Dr. jur.,” Doctor juris. (Figures 19a-b)
Now knowing both Dr. Schück and his wife died in Berlin, I’ve requested copies of their death certificates from the Landesarchiv Berlin. They currently have a several month-long backlog so it will be some time before I can report to readers any new information these documents may contain.
I also searched Dr. Schück’s wife in ancestry.com. I found a “Heddy Schück” listed in a 1954 Berlin Phone Directory living at “Fasanenstrasse 38, Charlottenburg” (Figure 20), which matched her address in the compensation package. Reminded that Hedwig was listed as “Heddy,” Allan’s mother later recalled that she in fact went by this diminutive.
Readers will correctly surmise that my conversation with Allan Grutt Hansen has partially answered the question of whether the Schück family was compensated for the forced sale of the sugar factory located in Woinowitz. But, like the Hydra of mythological renown, I may have raised several new questions for the one I’ve answered, namely, who, if anyone beyond Dr. Schück, received monies paid out in 1936; who initiated the compensation proceedings in the 1960’s; and which heirs were indemnified in 1966? There may be other new questions based on the answers to the ones enumerated. Because the restitution was only resolved in 1966, it’s possible that Germany’s privacy laws may prevent release of the complete compensation package for many years to come. Time will tell.
Note: This post provides the answer posed to readers in Post 49 challenged to find the death register listing of my grandfather among the civil registry records of the Landesarchiv Berlin.
Most readers will never have any reason to access the Landesarchiv Berlin civil registry records (i.e., births: 1874-1907; marriages: 1874-1937; deaths: 1874-1987), so I expect few if any of you attempted to locate the name of my grandfather Felix Bruck in Berlin’s Sterberegister, death records, unless you enjoy challenges. That said, this turned out to be more difficult than I intended. Let me review for readers the information I provided in Post 49, then explain why ferreting out my grandfather’s death listing was not as straight-forward as I may have led readers to believe.
Figure 1 is the scan I provided of my grandfather’s death certificate (the archaic German word “Todesschein” is used, but the modern German term is “Totenschein”). The Todesschein includes the following information:
Death Register Nr. 971 of the year 1927 First name and surname: Felix Bruck Husband of Else née Berliner from Berlin-Wilmersdorf at Düsseldorfer Straße 24 Profession: pensioner, 63 years old, born in Ratibor [today: Racibórz, Poland] Died on the 23rd of June 1927 in Berlin IX Recorded Berlin on 22nd of July 1927 The Registrar.
Theoretically, all the information readers needed to locate my grandfather’s death register listing was provided, so no sleight-of-hand was perpetrated. Some readers may have assumed that because my grandfather lived with my grandmother, Else Bruck née Berliner, in Berlin-Wilmersdorf at Düsseldorfer Straße 24, his death would have been registered in the Standesamt, civil register office, that today encompasses the Berlin boroughs of Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf; this would be a reasonable assumption, and where I myself started. Unfortunately, I did not find my grandfather listed in the 1927 Sterberegister for the neighborhood of Wilmersdorf.
I remind readers of the situation I discussed in Post 49 of Dr. Ernst Neisser, husband of my first cousin twice removed, who attempted to commit suicide on October 1, 1942 with his first cousin, Luise Neisser; while Luise was successful and died that day, Ernst lingered in a coma until October 4th. Luise’s death was registered in the Standesamt -Charlottenburg where she and Ernst shared an apartment, but since Ernst was taken to the Jüdische Krankenhaus Berlin, Berlin Jewish Hospital, and succumbed there, his death was recorded in the neighborhood of Wedding in the Berlin borough of Mitte where the hospital is located, in an altogether different civil register office, in Standesamt-Wedding.
I began to suspect a similar circumstance may have arisen with my grandfather Felix Bruck, that he died in a different Berlin borough than he lived; thus, I re-examined his Todesschein, death certificate, which I fortunately have a copy of. The stamp on the certificate, which I’ve circled, reads “Berlin IX.” (Figure 2) If readers noticed this, like me, they may have shrugged it off as being irrelevant since it does not correspond with the name of any Berlin borough, either past or present. However, in fact, this is the key to solving “the challenge.” By typing in “Berlin” in the search box Standesamt on the Landesarchiv Berlin portal page, a pull-down menu listing 13 Berlin neighborhoods, plus additional subdivisions within some, appears. Here you select “Berlin IX” and Sterberegister, press “Suchen (i.e., Search),” and the death register for year 1927 is among those listed. Scroll down to the surnames beginning with the letter “B,” and here’s where you’ll find my grandfather’s name recorded under the month of June. (Figures 3a-b)
I can hear readers asking themselves two questions, “how would I have known to check for the ‘borough’ Berlin when no such named borough existed?” and “what records do the listed Berlin civil registration offices ‘I-XIII’ contain?” These, at least, are the two questions I asked myself. Not knowing the answers to them, I turned to one of my German cousins, and his explanation allowed me to understand the significance of these records and make connections between historical events I’d previously failed to see as related.
To understand the meaning of “Berlin IX” found on my grandfather’s death certificate, it is necessary to briefly review the history of Prussia and Berlin between 1874 and 1920. The German Empire was established in 1871, and Prussia was by far the largest and most influential state in the new German Empire; Berlin was the capital of Prussia, and henceforth became the capital of the German Empire. As previously discussed, in 1920, the “Greater Berlin Act” incorporated dozens of suburban cities, villages and estates around Berlin into an expanded city; the act increased the area of Berlin from 66 to 883 km2 (25 to 341 sq. mi). Between 1874 and 1920, the old city of Berlin was composed of 13 districts (Figure 4), each of which had a Standesamt, civil register office, including Berlin IX. The old Berlin corresponds roughly to the current borough of “Mitte.” (Figure 5) The civil register offices for these original, older Berlin districts recorded vital events until 1937-38, whereupon they were recorded by Standesamt offices in the then newly constituted boroughs of Mitte, Tiergarten, and Wedding, until the latest reorganization of the Berlin boroughs in 2001 that established the present, expanded borough of Mitte.
“Berlin IX” meant the so-called “Spandauer Vorstadt” (Figure 6), a suburb of Berlin with the name Spandau, or “Spandau Revier” (“revier” means territory) as is written on my grandfather’s death certificate. Spandauer Vorstadt (“vorstadt” means suburb) should not be confused with the outlying Berlin borough of Spandau, of which it was never a part.
The year 1874 was important in the history of Prussia. As discussed in the original Post 49, this year saw the establishment of the Standesämter, civil registration offices, for recording births, marriages, and deaths. These registry offices were the result of the Kulturkampf, the conflict between the German imperial government and the Roman Catholic Church from about 1871 to 1887, predominantly over the control of educational and ecclesiastical appointments. The German imperial government had the dream of breaking the influence of the Roman Catholic Church in the school system and in everyday life of individuals, and thereby compelled that births, marriages and deaths be registered as civil rather than religious “events.” With the establishment of the civil registration offices, the churches and other religious entities lost these functions.
I don’t expect readers to recall this but I discussed the Kulturkampf in a much earlier post (Post 12) in the context of explaining how I was finally able to locate the birth certificates for my father, born in 1907 in Ratibor, Germany [today: Racibórz, Poland] and his sister, born there in 1904, only when I examined the civil records at the “Archiwum Państwowe W Katowicach Oddzial W Raciborzu (State Archives in Katowice Branch in Racibórz),” where these are archived. The important thing for interested readers to understand is that after about 1874, one must turn to civil registration offices to find vital records for one’s ancestors who resided in the German Empire.
For readers who have a need to search the Berlin civil register records, you will find it challenging, time-consuming, and frustrating. Still, it can be rewarding. In recent months, I’ve discovered 12 historic certificates involving 14 individuals related or connected to my family. In five other instances where I have credible knowledge a vital event took place in Berlin, I’ve been unable to find any record of the event. For births, I would expect them to have occurred in the city, village or estate where the parents resided, but with marriages and deaths, they could easily have taken place in a different town or borough than where the people resided, making them much more difficult to track down.
Since publishing Post 49, I was contacted by a woman from Mexico City whose Jewish father fled Germany in the 1930’s and had his citizenship revoked by the Nazis; the father is trying to re-establish his German citizenship and needs to track down vital documents for himself and his deceased parents to bolster his claim. Despite having very precise knowledge where in Berlin-Wilmersdorf her father and grandparents lived and when the grandparents got married, I’ve been unable to help this lady find relevant historic documents. Because of privacy laws, birth certificates after 1907 are only available to immediate family, so the family will need to contact the civil register office for Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf to obtain this document for the father born in 1931; since I was unable to locate the grandparents’ 1930 marriage register listing, the family will also be compelled to request a search for this document by this office.
Remark: This post marks two milestones, my 50th Blog post (not including postscripts) and two years since I launched the Bruck Family History Blog. I apologize to readers for the length of this Blog post but since it is a diary of roughly the last two months of my relatives’ lives during the Nazi Era, I want to present it in its entirety without interruption.
Note: This is the moving story of Dr. Adolf Guttentag and Helene Guttentagnée Pauly (Figure 1), my first cousin twice removed and her husband, describing their final months in Berlin in 1942 before they were ordered by the Nazis to present themselves for deportation to Theresienstadt but instead elected to end their lives.
For the benefit of their son, Dr. Otto Guttentag (Figure 2), who had managed to immigrate with his first wife Dorothee Guttentag née Haken (Figure 3) to America in December 1933 after the Nazis rose to power, my first cousin twice removed and her husband , Dr. Adolf Guttentag and Helene Guttentag née Pauly, who were unable to escape wrote a diary for their son. (Figure 4) Not wanting the story to be exclusively about their final months, they also captured in writing things they wanted their son to remember about them and memories of their earlier lives. Given their fate—they committed suicide together in October 1942—the story is tinged with bitter-sweetness.
In the course of updating my family tree on ancestry.com, I learned about Adolf and Helene’s son, Otto Guttentag, and discovered he came to America. I located his obituary and found out he passed away in 1992, leaving three grown children behind. With more forensic work, I was able to connect with one of Otto’s children, Christoph Guttentag (Figure 5), who told me about his grandparents’ diary which I was able to locate on-line.
Following Adolf and Helene Guttentag’s deaths, the diary was salvaged by one of their neighbors and eventually made its way into the hands of their son. Otto’s second wife, Erika Guttentag, lovingly and impeccably translated the document into English, and the family donated the original diary and the translation to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. What follows is Erika’s translation of Adolf and Helene’s diary along with her numerical footnotes in parentheses. I have added some alphabetically-ordered footnotes in red, shown images of and/or historic documents related to some of the people mentioned, and provided some context where I thought that was useful. For obvious reasons I’ve made a concerted effort to keep my own “footprint” as small as possible.
Briefly, for orientation, Dr. Adolf Guttentag’s wife, Helene Guttentag née Pauly, was the sister of Margarethe Neisser née Pauly, married to Dr. Ernst Neisser (Figure 6), subject of Blog post 48. To remind readers, Margarethe suffered from depression and committed suicide in October 1941, while her husband and his first cousin, Luise Neisser, took their lives in October 1942 after they were given less than 24 hours to present themselves for deportation to Theresienstadt; Adolf’s diary mentions this event, and corroborates what Ernst Neisser’s daughter, Suse Vogel, wrote about it that was the subject of Blog post 48.
DIARY OF ADOLF GUTTENTAG (1942)
ON THE COVER OF THE NOTEBOOK: IF POSSIBLE, GET THIS LAST DIARY TO ‘OTTO E. GUTTENTAG, M.D. ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA’
August 22, 1942
Early in the summer of 1942 the possibility arose that we might be evacuated. Änne [1] has already been transported to Poland for heavy work. Now her mother [2] will be evacuated again, that is, for the third time. Rather large transports now occur at a rapid pace. A farewell letter to Otto and Dorothee [3], which I have deposited with Maria W. [4], describes in two notebooks, the general development of my family. In addition, I have decided to start making diary-type entries which show how we are, i.e., how our health is, how we spend our time, what else is going on, what we must expect, and what our plans are.
(This paper is so thin that I am using only one side so that it will be easier to read. I don’t just want to describe our misery to you but will write about other things for you to remember about your parents.)
After a lengthy pause I begin on
August 22, 1942
We were living in a pleasant boarding-house on Kurfürstendamm [A], from where we wrote to you. On October 1, 1941, we were forced by the authorities to leave this street. A colleague, who had become a friend and with whom Uncle Ernst [5] had consulted several times, had mentioned an unfurnished room where we could be housed and get our meals. (With difficulty and at emotional and material cost) we managed to get from Hirschberg[B] our basic furniture, necessary clothes and the barest mount of linens so that we could get established here. We have full board, i.e., all meals. The cleaning of the room is done primarily by us. The room is on the second floor, is about 4 x 5.5 meter squared [6] and has a balcony. In front of it is a big maple tree. We have planted beans on the balcony so that we are somewhat shielded from the rather unpleasant opposite side. In our room are my bed, a couch on which Mutti [7] sleeps, a wardrobe (our so-called “star” wardrobe because of the two inlaid stars; at Berliner Tor [8] it was in our bedroom); the big cabinet which used to be in Franz L.’s [9] study and now holds our dishes and linens; our Empire chest with the metal fittings that used to be in the dining room, and the desk which we had bought for Dorothee and then, unfortunately, were not allowed to send you. Everything is close together, but the room looks homey and the old, beautiful furniture still has its effect. In the middle of the room is a large mahogany table, 90 cm. in diameter, and around it four mahogany chairs that used to be in Frz. L.’s downstairs front room. In addition, we have two comfortable, upholstered chairs. This is how we have been living for close to 11 months. Because of the great distances all errands and visits are time-consuming, so Mutti is quite busy with errands even though she does not have to cook. However, since a number of relatives and friends are no longer here, our social contacts are getting fewer and fewer. Of course, you cannot expect that, because of increasing worry about the immediate future, we look any better, even though our nutrition is entirely adequate. With increasing age, I have become more detached and thus look at things to come with equanimity. My father was like that, I think, while the Pauly family has lost none of its spirit. It is fortunate for me that Mutti has kept her common sense (German: “Ueberlegung”) and her resoluteness. In the past several years my forgetfulness, distractibility and inability to concentrate have increased considerably. Thus, it is characteristic that I can read Homer and extract vocabulary but often cannot understand a new point of view. Thus, I can sometimes participate in a conversation and can give good medical advice, for which the others are often grateful. I have learned quite well to conceal some deficiency in comprehension. Thus, I am content, and I put up with these symptoms of old age and with my residual speech defect of 1932. How I wish that Mutti would look a little better! Her pallor surely is related to her vascular spasms which occur at every new worry and every frightening news. Her urine is free of E.u.Z. [C], as I could recently determine. She sleeps well; if only she allowed herself more rest!
As an introduction to this diary I have described to you how we live since I have not been able to write to you in many months.
While I am at home much of the time, reading, helping Mutti as best I can, Mutti runs errands. What makes it hard is the fact that we are permitted to shop for only one certain hour. [D] There is no point in describing to you all the limitations dictated to us. Should you want to know, you will be able to find out all about them later—but not now. In the beginning Mutti was able to visit with many relatives and friends, as many of the Poseners [E] had moved here. Now almost all of them are gone. Correspondence is further limited because many cannot be written to. It is painful that, for the time being, we will lose all contact with Ellchen (Figure 7), who will be evacuated within days. None of the first cousins are any longer here: one, Else [F] (Figure 8) is in Cuba, another is in Theresienstadt near the Saxonian border in Bohemia, the fortress assigned to receive evacuees. So far there are no news about them because at this time the post office does not process mail. Another cousin, Lotte M. [G] (Figure 9) lives in Sweden with her son and daughter-in-law and knows several Germans who are now living there. We are convinced that somebody, perhaps Georg, has written to you. We were told he had, but he did not receive an answer. He told us that he would write you again, perhaps some time this month, i.e., August ’42. Our Swiss friend, who sends us a note once in a while, wrote that she had received a letter from you. That was in the spring of ’42. However, she only reported—probably intentionally—that you are well and busy. So far, we have not yet tried to write via the Red Cross; we believe that you have not done so either, for good reasons. A message, which may consist of 25 words, has always taken 3 months to reach us. Through this channel it would have taken just as long, but we could have written more, if the mail goes through at all. [H]
We are home alone. A physician came in for a moment. He is a well-known neurologist who has written a comprehensive book on encephalitis, which Ernst [10] translated into English last year. He had a respected position but, as so many, had to give it up. He came to tell us, unfortunately, that he had suddenly been informed that he had to make a list of assets, etc.; that meant that he would soon be evacuated. In spite of extreme malnutrition, blindness in one eye and poor vision in the other (all probably tuberculosis), he seems to be scheduled for transport to the East!
Maria’s [Maria Wundsch] husband had sent us a number of papers concerning his fishery work. They are of zoological as well as economic importance. I have read them carefully because I had no idea what there is in the world outside of medicine. We have sent those papers to Mutti’s brother [11] who, like another friend, is very much interested in the development and utilization of fish in the lakes of the Havel river in the province of Brandenburg. A few days from now Maria’s husband will inspect a lake there. As for us, we cannot initiate any such contacts because they would endanger others and ourselves.
There s a magazine in Germany: “Research and Progress: Journal of German Science and Technology,” organ of the State Research Council. Founded and edited by Karl Kerkhof. Published three times a month. RM 3.00 quarter. Berlin-NW7, Unter den Linden 8. From bookstores through Joh. Ambrosius Barth, Leipzig. Maria’s husband gave me the 1941 issues to read, and I shall quote any articles I find. The first one: “20 Years of German Scientific Research” by Ministerialdirektor Professor Mentzel is an excerpt from a “Festrede” (i.e., speech) of the Emergency Association of German Science. However, like other papers, it is too scholarly for me because it presumes too much knowledge. About medicine it says that the State Research Council will emphasize new fields of research: heritage and race research, population politics, colonial medicine, and cancer research.
Monday, August 24, 1942
Last night, at 1:20am an attack of arrhythmia without recognizable reason. By taking ½ tablet of Theominal I slept more or less through the night, took 2 tablets Cardiotrat, without benefit. Quiet was not restored until after a bowel movement. Duration pf the attack: 7 hours. Of the drugs Landiotorin (?) contains convallaria maialis, caffeine, and . . .landiotrat, benzoicum, Miridin, Barbitursäure, Dimethylyanthin (?) After a long period of no side effects of Theominal, I observed muscle cramps after each use, again today in the tibialis anterior muscle.
Tuesday, August 25, 1942
Yesterday I stayed home and leafed through an old book. Occasionally, famous natural scientists described their travel experiences and elicited much interest. I remember, for instance, reading travel descriptions by Ernst Haeckel, before he was so famous. He could write very appealingly and vividly. This time it was a well-known botanist, Professor (Ordinarius) Strasburger of Bonn, probably working in Bonn, judging from the foreword. He published “Excursions on the Riviera” in 1895. I am quoting, among other observations, the following botanical remarks, which may be of interest to you. “In marked contrast to these fragrant plants, there is another, Lauraceae, an evergreen tree thriving here, whose name ‘Oreodaphne california,’ also states its origin. In gardens it is often called ‘Laurus regalis.’ In appearance it indeed resembles a laurel, but when one rubs one of its leaves between the fingers it gives off a volatile oil. Even the smallest amount of it greatly irritates the mucous membranes of the olfactory organs. In California, one tries not to stay close to such a tree if the wind blows from that direction, because the volatile oils with which it is laden, cause prolonged sneezing.”
I hope some day you will see these notes after all and perhaps check out those statements. I was at the Riviera once, as a student, with Alfr. B. As usual, we had laboriously saved our month allowances in order to travel. If I had known this book by Strasburger at that time I would have learned more about the beauty of this coastline, unique in Europe. With Mutti I was at the Italian Riviera only once, to Riviera di Levante (incidentally I also went once with Franz Leonhard), whose beauty is similar. But the French Riviera (according to the above-mentioned book) is charming because of the Maritime Alps shimmering to the northeast (which, to the south, turn into the Esterel Massif). We didn’t get to take this trip, or to parts of Switzerland, which I wanted to show Mutti. Of course, Mutti has been to the Mediterranean several times, the last time to Marseille when we visited Provence and stayed a while. Naturally, we have very beautiful postcards from this trip. The pictures of nature and the reproductions of the astonishing achievements of the Romans are part of my often-mentioned collection. The trip to Provence is one of our unforgettable memories. It was our last trip, I believe.
Thursday, August 27, 1942
The first hot day yesterday; so far, the summer has been mostly cool with cloudy skies. After a little walk to buy bread I was rather tired. Around 1 o’clock at night we were awakened by sirens. We dressed, got all our documents ready (copy of the testament, burial spot including receipt, wish to be cremated, etc.) as well as clothes for transport, also all medicines with morphine Entodal (?)[I] -Scopolamine syringe and sufficient Veronal, and waited. Just one hour later the all-clear signal sounded. We went to bed, slept until morning and got up at the usual time, well rested.
Friday, August 28, 1942
Goethe’s birthday. He was born at noon, as mentioned in “Truth and Poetry (Dichtung und Warheit),” I believe. The older I get the more I value Goethe, for he was a noble man which, to be sure, I am not. My shortcomings become ever clearer to me, but I also recognize much that can be explained medically. But I am not important enough to others to get into it. Goethe did not consider himself perfect either; he too recognized his faults. I can’t remember the verse he wrote about it so I can’t quote it. However, he always wanted the best; he was, in the highest sense, moral. “Whoever strives with all his might, him we can save” etc. (“Faust” end of Part II)
August 31, 1942
On August 23rd I told you about the neurologist who expected to be evacuated. He could not face the prospect of being sent to an old people’s home or to be deported to Poland, so he took his life yesterday. Like many, many others, he did not want to go on living because he would have to give up what little freedom we all still have, and he no longer had an opportunity to contribute and subordinate himself (sic). Many face this choice, especially older people, to which group we also belong—I at almost 74, Mutti correspondingly younger. This would be the decision to make: would it be possible to leave Germany at the end of the war, move in with you, without means, but perhaps able to earn a little something that could make life in your home easier. If later on that is not permitted, the best scenario would be to be put in an old people’s home, where, of course, only the most basic necessities of life would be permitted. They [the homes] are different in different areas, some are in the barracks of an old fortress in Bohemia, others in villages in Poland. Because of the uncertainty about their fate many older people decide to end their lives, especially those who cannot hope to be taken in by members of their families abroad once the war is over. These, then, are the options: During the war nobody gets out of Germany. If the outcome of the war is favorable for Germany, some [of us] will have to continue to live in a ghetto—whatever its form. Some could emigrate at the expense of others if that should be permitted after the end of war. These are the questions all face who can lose the right to stay in their apartments at any time, because in that case they have to get ready for evacuation. If we lose our room, we, too, have to make that decision. If the war ends unfavorably for Germany, nobody who is considered non-Aryan will stay here, if they should still be alive.
September 2, 1942
(This day was observed as a holiday until the World War because it was seen as the founding of the Empire after the French army, being surrounded by Molkte’s strategy, had to surrender.)
I hope that you can understand what I have written, although I have written somewhat out of sequence. The reason is that I can only write for short periods of time. Meanwhile, I get more and more sad news about others, which move us deeply. Again and again I am faced with the question: Shall I, or shall I not, take Veronal and Scopolamine-Entodal (?) and end my life on the day I receive notice of evacuation? My first concern is for Mutti; if she wanted it I would do it immediately; but if she had hopes of seeing you again some time, it would, of course, be sad if I didn’t make it too. Thus, the question gradually comes to these alternatives: If one believes that the war will end soon in a way that we can get to you unscathed, one should ride it out; otherwise at least I should terminate my life. For years heart trouble prevented me from accomplishing anything. In the past few years it has gotten somewhat better so that, with light medication, I can do more. However, in the present hot weather it is doubtful if I could stand deportation to Theresienstadt without heart trouble that could lead to other problems. For two or three weeks I have had edemas in my ankles, first in the right ankle, and eight days later, somewhat less, in the left ankle. Liver and spleen are enlarged. E in the urine 0:ZO RR 122, measured today. The edemas cause no discomfort at all. I remember that at the physical examination in the military varicose veins were noted on my instep. They were not particularly pronounced; otherwise, I have no varicose veins at all.
September 4, 1942
Two more families are gone. I knew one of them by name from Breslau. She is related to Else M. [12] and lived inKrummhübel, Riesengebirge for a few years. After she had to leave there she lived in Berlin for a few months. Now this family has been picked up and deported head over heels; they don’t tell where to. As usual, any contact with Theresienstadt is impossible. Thus, we don’t know what happened to Ellchen, either. Mail is not forwarded. What cruelty!
The other family is related to Mutti, the parents of both women were cousins, I believe. The family is still here, but the first step, the initial registration, has been taken. The family is greatly affected, since the husband is paralyzed in both legs. He suffers from stiffening of both hip joints (diagnosis not entirely clear); his wife, after gynecological changes and elongated colon, has most severe constipation, etc. All those people are in their sixties—in other words 60-70 years old—and are not up to those hardships.
September 6, 1942
Frz. L.’s [Franz Leonhard] birthday. I wrote about him earlier and mentioned how close he felt to me and also to Otto. A man of above-average intellect, sharp and critical. His conflict was: Humanitarian ideals but a desire for great comfort. That explains his psychopathic conflict of always being tired and reluctant to work. In her old age his mother had a psychological disorder; all four sons died by suicide. (Figures 10a-b) [J]
Now it has been Ernst’s [Ernst Neisser] turn to supply his records. One never knows when the next step comes. Sooner or later one has to vacate the apartment and is evacuated, whether to the above-mentioned, small, enclosed city of Theresienstadt, to an old-age home, or even to Poland nobody knows. Usually there are no news from there; one does not know whether relatives are still alive or have died. So, one will always return to the question that I have discussed above: take the Veronal or not? The number of those who have nothing to expect from life grows.
September 7, 1942
For the first time since about a year we learned a little more about you through our friend [13]. She reports as follows: You have changed apartments. Do [Dorothee] has taken beautiful care of her garden and is very busy. The patients love her.
We always knew that she would make her way because of her love of people, her devotion to her profession and to her patients, and her incorruptible reliability. Such change of one’s life into another world must be hard to cope with, especially in the beginning. “Not all dreams come true” (“Nicht alle Bluetenträume reiften”) Thus we are especially grateful to her for becoming your loyal companion and probably helper in life. It was a great joy for us to hear about the content of this letter; if only such reports came more frequently! We are writing to Lu [14] to thank her.
September 8, 1942
I went to the post office today to mail the postcard to her and had to show my identification card (Adolf Jonas Israel G.).
September 19,1942
Day after day passes, and I don’t accomplish anything. However, this morning we unexpectedly received the order to complete our personal records. At the same time, we were given a number TH (Theresienstadt) N. 341/2. That means we will soon be evacuated to Theresienstadt. Thus, I won’t be likely to make many more entries in the diary. I will give Maria [Maria Wundsch] the two notebooks about my family, as I mentioned on pp. 1 and 2. Also, three notebooks of medical notes, bound in shiny paper. Perhaps No. 3 will be of use to both of you. In No. 2 I have made a list of new and suitable (sic) medicines that have come to my attention. Leaf through them; one or the other might be of use to you. In No. 1 I have written individual abstracts that are perhaps dated and antiquated but might contain this or that. In my father’s old album, I have extracted from Homer the words I didn’t know. To read it gave me great pleasure. The farther I got the better I retained the vocabulary that I used to know.
September 21, 1942
Today we received a postcard from Sweden, from Mrs. Elsa Meyring née Bauchwitz. (Figures 11a-b, 12a-b) [K] She is the only woman who several months ago was permitted to leave Poland, where she had been evacuated to from Stettin. She was taken in by friends in Stockholm. She hasn’t heard from Georg M. for a long time.
My edemas have decreased. I have requested an additional examination to see whether I am fit to be transported to Theresienstadt. The examinations are very strict; only severe cases are exempted. Therefore, I don’t doubt that I will have to go. If I could take my Veronal with me the decision would be easy. However, there are such strict regulations about what one is allowed to take along that, for me, the decision is very difficult. Only the bare necessities of life are allowed, and everything is examined. But so many old customs will have to be given up. Mutti tackles the job energetically, separating what is necessary for us from what others may be able to use. She is tirelessly busy and has new and good ideas that might be useful to others. She is of infinite kindness and she gives her time and effort to all who need it. When, unexpectedly, the news came that we had to fill out the first form, she turned deathly pale and covered with sweat as if she were to faint. But she was so composed and controlled that nobody could notice anything; she spoke calmly and amiably to the secretary, who plopped in as we had breakfast and who had to record our data. We then received a number: 341/2, which I already mentioned earlier. Many of our people already are in Theresienstadt, above all, I hope, Ellchen; certainly Dr. Gertrud Kant. [15] (Figure 13), plus her aunt by marriage, and a fair number of Posen and Breslau friends. I already mentioned that mail is prohibited; but occasionally the news has filtered through that, given the circumstances, life in that ghetto is tolerable. In Poland it is still as bad as it was when the Stettin people were the first to be transported there, even though the dreadful transport and other circumstances have somewhat improved. I often think what Männe [16] (Figure 14), my brother-in-law once wrote: “May you be spared such things!” In spite of his many faults and weaknesses he was always a kind person, with practical gifts and intelligence. I was greatly indebted to him in the beginning of my career because I had no talent to get started in life. He always gave me good advice, which I didn’t recognize until later. In later years our paths parted because he would not change any formerly acquired convictions. Complete integrity was his first priority.
Yesterday Maria [Maria Wundsch] was here for almost the entire day in order to help Mutti. She is the only person who has been of help and assistance to Mutti in our many moves: 1. From Stettin (Figures 15a-b) [L] to Hirschberg; 2. H(irschberg) move from No. 70 to No. 32; 3. From H. to Berlin-Kurfürstendamm; 4. from there to here; and 5. now for the evacuation. What a person! Other friends or relatives had failed us. Her convictions are strange, but one must respect her. Details of her religious point of view perhaps at some later time. Incomprehensible to me: even though she cannot adopt the Christian dogma, she nevertheless does not have to conform to certain rules of the Jewish religion, as for instance the total, 24-hour fasting on their highest holiday, Yom Kippur. So, she had come to discuss with Mutti how best to pack the modest number of authorized articles for the transport. We are allowed no more than 50 kg per person, i..e., one suitcase and a so-called bread bag—no back pack. Disallowed, among other things: watch, any glass or china (thus only a tin plate, a tin cup). Forbidden: fountain pen, knives of any kind! So, we are taking clothes and bed linens, toiletries, a heavy blanket and a pillow, plus provisions. Books are permitted. Money in the amount of 50 Mark for the trip is necessary. The rest of the money goes to the State and, to a certain extent, to the Jewish Cultural Community, so that it may be in a position to support any Jews without means who might still be in Germany. In my case, that is 25% of my assets, the rest goes to the German state. While writing this down any reasonable person will ask: is it still worthwhile to go on living, if one has a painless sleeping pill to go to sleep? Again and again the question is: Won’t this spook end soon and then there is hope for better days? The answer is very different for different people, depending on their disposition. An old gentleman of 87, completely fit and unmarried, departed from life voluntarily. He used to live in the room next to ours in our boarding house. He walked for hours each day, attended the theater and concerts surreptitiously (of course forbidden because he wore no David’s star at those times). When he recently learned he was to be evacuated, he said that he had nothing more to expect from life, since he had enjoyed many good things (travel, music) for many years. So, he took Veronal and was dead after a day-and-a-half. Another couple whom I mentioned above: he has two stiff legs and prostate trouble, she wears a pessary [M] that has to be changed every four weeks, has constipation which can only be relieved by very special, hard-to-obtain medicines, has a weak heart that is not strong enough without caffeine—they both want to see it through although they know that they can expect nothing from their sons. So, everybody struggles through to make his decision. The (Aryan) wife of our colleague and friend who lives in this house says she would not go along but put an end to it. Maria says: “By all means see it through, hide! Times change!” That requires substantial secret means (which we do not have), and one has to be younger so one can find suitable quarters by walking from place to place. Although we have seen others do it, it would be impossible for us to observe the various regulations—which you cannot know exactly—like ration cards (every little detail has been worked out; admirable how everything is organized in Germany), registration with the police including controls, etc.
Sunday, September 27, 1942
Our worries mount. Constant transports are taking the older people to Theresienstadt, the younger ones capable of work, to Poland. There living conditions are supposed to be much more disagreeable. Even so I vacillate back and forth whether I should go to Th. after all. Even transportation to the local collection center, where one is retained and checked for a few days, is unpleasant. You are driven there, with your hand luggage, in a moving van. There you get food, and there your luggage is examined. Very limited necessities of life are permitted. I just noticed I have already written about it. How best to pack everything takes, of course, a lot of deliberation. We will carry the hand luggage; the bags, containing bed linen and suits, go by rail. We have to leave the keys on the bags so what we take can be controlled. Whether everything will be there when we arrive is another question! Gradually I try to imagine such a life in Theresienstadt. We take only food and the most essential clothing and bed linens. A cot will presumably be provided. But of course, we are used to certain cultural needs which we cannot readily do without; I am thinking of cleaning the living quarters and the linens. Should one continue to live under constraint of limited freedom?
We have often pondered about why such cruel regulations have descended upon us. Although my knowledge of history is modest, I personally think that populations have been expatriated before. We have just not experienced it during the many years of peace we have just had. The 19th century was considered humanitarian! Only Russia was believed to have such conditions. In antiquity they were a matter of course. Augustus gave land in Italy to 20,000 legionnaires; of course, he had taken the land from others. Populations that were conquered were sold into slavery; see Carthage, which was flattened. How often did entire populations flee when the enemy arrived. Think only of ‘Hermann und Dorothea.’ The Salzburg people left because of their faith. But that the Jews of Germany are now expelled with practically no means and forced into other activities, that is a novelty.
September 29, 1942
Mutti has trouble with her teeth. A dentist, who is a relative [N], began to make her a new prosthesis. In the present circumstances it took approximately four weeks to make, during which time she had to chew without her lower teeth. The prothesis is still painful; more filing has to be done. I myself am fairly well-off health wise (heart and prostate) and I constantly gulp small quantities of Landiotrat. My ankle edemas are minimal, but my liver is enlarged by two finger-widths. I can feel it on one spot at the curve of the rib, and the colleague here in the house has confirmed it. I am particularly bothered by the cold, although from way back I have loved washing myself daily with cold water from head to toe. Nevertheless, at night my feet are ice-cold and don’t get warm until two or three hours later (in heavy bed slippers).
October 1, 1942
Now fate has caught up with Uncle Ernst [Ernst Neisser]. Yesterday afternoon he was informed that he was to be ready tomorrow morning from 8:00 a.m. on; he would be picked up and evacuated, together with his relative, Miss. Lise N. [O] (who has kept house for him). It is never divulged where they are going, probably somewhere in Bohemia. He had always been determined not to go; he wanted to end his life because of his more and more frequent and painful heart troubles that can only be interpreted as angina pectoris. Last night he had a long talk with Susel [17], whom he had notified, and he again expressed his reasons to her. Susel was just here, told us everything, and has gone to his apartment with Hans [18] and Mutti. Presumably he injected himself and Miss N. with morphine and took Veronal. Since it has been 15 hours since he took the medicines it can be assumed that the result will be absolutely fatal, and any revival, which everybody fears, is impossible.
Miss N. [Luise Neisser] had already died last night (Figures 16a-b), but Uncle Ernst had not. He was taken to the hospital (we may be taken only to the Jewish Hospital) [P] and was still alive this morning. He had injected himself with 2% morphine and taken 5 tablets of Veronal. Susel understands that her father could not act differently, and she is quite calm about his passing on. He was unusually gifted, with a streak of originality, full of ideas and able to pursue them. He was kind, charming, and understanding of the aspirations of others. Since his complaints increased with age and at 80 his stamina had decreased, he had the right to depart from life. Susel said his favorite activity had been to teach young physicians. He died on October 3, 1942. (Figures 17a-b) I shall copy the death notice later; I have to wait until the body is released for burial by the police.
In Frz. L’s [Franz Leonhard] library I found Waldeyer’s Memoirs, which were interesting reading. On the table of contents page, I have jotted down in pencil a few things that are of interest to us. The book will be at Maria’s as soon as I finish reading it. Amazing how much this man achieved, even though he is not counted among the elite of science, as for instance Virchow. His achievements can probably be explained by his organizational talents, his temperament and his eloquence. How he could teach anatomy to about 1000 students so that each could prepare everything is amazing.
We have received a letter from Elizabeth, written on September 24. We already knew you had moved to a new apartment, and that you are well. Keep it up! Of course, we understand that we cannot learn more. A birthday telegram in April from you to Mutti has not arrived.
Yesterday was the memorial service for Uncle Ernst. As Mutti reported it was very dignified through the music of a quartet, which at first . . .[sentence not finished]. We stayed together for a while: Susel and Hans, Uncle Willi [19] (Figure 18), Maria [Wundsch], Mutti and I. . . .(whom the family reached?). Such conversations in a restaurant, where everybody talks loudly and at the same time, now always depress me. I understand but little and become more and more melancholy. How often I then have the wish not to go on living! Therefore, nobody should reproach themselves that they could have made life more pleasant for me. It is in my own personality that I tend to be moody. Since I have nothing more to expect I would be content not to have to wake up again. I have lived a happy life, long united with Mutti, and I am eternally grateful to her, so my greatest worry is how to spare her these worrisome changes.
FROM HERE ON THE ENTRIES ARE IN PENCIL, FIRST IN A JITTERY HAND, LATER BECOMING FIRM AGAIN
On October 12 the Secret Police came. They immediately took our landlady and her family with them, we didn’t know why. Then they demanded our identity cards, took them and ordered us to Burgstrasse, Room No. 308 (that is the Secret Police). They also asked why we had not been evacuated. Generally, there is no release from there. Mutti had long wanted to write you a farewell letter and say a few things, I believe. But you know her kindness, her sincerity and her insights. She would not be able to add anything new. Remember that we always wanted your best, but that our lives are complete. We had imagined it all differently, but that was not to be. That Mutti could not have a beautiful service with music is very painful to me.
Life was happy and beautiful. . . .Vati (Dad)
SCRAWLED ACROSS THE NEXT TWO PAGES
On October 16 the . . . physician Dr. A. Guttentag died. (Figures 19a-b)
[15] Gertrud Kantorowicz, sister of Else Milch née Kantorowicz and Franz Kantorowicz, and daughter of Max Kantorowicz & Rosalinde Pauly; Franz Kantorowicz gave us the “Still Life” painting by Graf von Kalckreuth as a wedding gift
[16] Hermann “Männe” Rothholz, husband of Anna Pauly, one of the Pauly sisters; father of Walter Rothholz
[17] Suse Vogel née Neisser, daughter of Ernst Neisser and Margarethe Neisser née Pauly; Margarethe was one of the eight Pauly sisters
[18] Hans Vogel, Suse’s husband
[19] Willi Pauly, Helene Guttentag’s brother and the only boy among the nine children of Josef and Rosalie Pauly
MY FOOTNOTES (ALPHABETICAL)
[A] Kurfürstendamm is located in the Charlottenburg borough of Berlin
[B] Hirschberg im Riesengebirge, Germany [today: Jelenia Góra, Poland], approximately 250 miles south of Stettin where Adolf & Helene lived previously
[C] “E.u.Z,” may stand for “E. und (and) Z.,” possibly two different bacteria the urine is checked for; “E.” may be “Escherichia”
[D] as mentioned in Post 48, Jews were only allowed to buy food between the hours of 4 and 5pm
[E] former neighbors from Posen, Germany [today: Poznan, Poland]
[F] Else Milch née Kantorowicz, daughter of Max Kantorowicz & Rosalinde Pauly
[G] Lotte Mockrauer née Bruck, my great-aunt
[H]letters sent through the Red Cross during the war were limited to 25 words, but it appears longer letters could be written to their friend in Switzerland
[I] likely a barbiturate, a drug that acts as a central nervous system depressant, and can therefore produce a wide spectrum of effects, from mild sedation to death
[J] this fortunate reference to Franz Leonhard’s day of birth, September 6th, allowed me to locate his death certificate on ancestry.com; Franz was born on September 6, 1867 and died in Breslau on November 11, 1938. His death certificate mentions he indeed killed himself by taking sleeping tablets
[K] this reference to Mrs. Elsa Meyring née Bauchwitz, one of Adolf and Helene’s friends from Stettin, allowed me to locate her birth certificate, as well as her certificate of marriage to Theodor Meyring; ancestry.com indicates she indeed died in Sweden
[L] a 1935 Stettin Address Directory lists Dr. Adolf Guttentag, a specialist in stomach and intestinal diseases, having an office at Kaiser Wilhelmstraße 12; a photo of Adolf & Helene Guttentag, taken at Christmas 1938 (Figures 25a-b), shows them living nearby at Kaiser Wilhelmstraße 9, probably shortly before Adolf Guttentag retired at age 70 and the Guttentags relocated to Hirschberg
[N] this is wild conjecture on my part, but possibly the dentist, the family relative, who made Helene Guttentag’s prosthesis was my Uncle Dr. Fedor Bruck (see Post 31), who was still living and working in Berlin at the time until he went into hiding in October 1942 to avoid deportation
Note: In this Blog post, I provide a brief guide on searching the on-line registry of vital records and statistics at the “Landesarchiv Berlin,” the Berlin State Archive. This may be of interest to the small percentage of readers whose forebears are German and may once have lived in Berlin.
Civil registration is the system by which a government records the vital events (births, marriages and deaths) of its citizens and residents. The resulting repository or database has different names in different countries and even in different states in America (e.g., civil registry, civil register, vital records, bureau of vital statistics, registrar, registry, register, registry office, population register). In Berlin, the records of births, marriages and deaths are stored at the “Landesarchiv Berlin,” the Berlin State Archive, and can be accessed on-line, specifically, in registers of births between roughly 1874 and 1907; in registers of marriages from about 1874 to 1935; and in registers of deaths from around 1874 to 1987.
It is quite challenging to use this on-line database, so in this Blog post I will share a few hints with interested readers on possibly finding their ancestors’ names. I need to alert readers that finding your ancestors in a registry does not immediately give you access to the underlying historic document; this entails sending an email to the Landesarchiv, and, at present, waiting up to four months to have the historic certificate mailed to you. If you do all the research yourself, identifying the specific register, Berlin borough (see below), and document number, the Landesarchiv typically does not charge you for their services and copies of records.
At the end, for those who enjoy working through puzzles, using my own grandfather Felix Bruck, I will challenge readers to find the specific register in which his death was recorded. In a week, I will tell and walk readers through the steps that I went through to find his name. No doubt readers will be considerably more adept and quicker than I was at finding the proper register.
Before introducing readers to the civil registration database, let me provide some brief historic context. According to the Landesarchiv’s website, the establishment of the archive in the modern sense of the term is 1808. During WWII the collections of the archives were dispersed, to avoid destruction; following the war, during the 1950’s and 1960’s, the surviving collections were reunited. In 1991 the Landesarchiv merged with Stadtarchiv in Berlin; the latter was the municipal archive and the place where the civil registration records were stored until the merger. In 2000, the Landesarchiv also integrated collections from the “Archivabeitlung der Landesbildstelle” and the “Archiv der Internationalen Bauausstellung,” including audio-visual archives.
The portal to access the civil registration records on file at the Landesarchiv Berlin can be found at the following URL:
I can no longer recall how I became aware of this database, but given my family’s deep-seated connections to Berlin, it was only a matter of time before I would eventually learn of its existence. Figure 1a is a screen-shot of the portal page, very simple in its presentation; Figure 1b is the same portal page translated, although the database cannot be queried from here (i.e., queries must be done from the German-language page). There are three categories of records that can be searched in combination or individually (i.e., you can check one, two or all three boxes) for any area of Berlin: Sterberegister (Death Records); Heiratsregister (Marriage Register); and Geburtenregister (Birth Registers).
One of the keys to searching the civil registration records for Berlin is understanding Berlin’s system of boroughs. The German capital Berlin is divided into 12 boroughs (German: Stadtteile/Bezirke), that have political rights like a town but are not legally cities. (Figure 2) On January 1, 2001, Berlin instituted a reform of its boroughs reducing their number from 23 to 12 to cut down on administrative costs. Below is a table showing the old and new borough names, an understanding of which is critical to querying the civil registration records:
NUMBER
NEW BOROUGH NAME
OLD BOROUGH NAMES
I
Mitte
Mitte, Tiergarten, Wedding
II
Friedrichshain-Kreuzberg
Friedrichshain, Kreuzberg
III
Pankow
Prenzlauer Berg, Weißensee, Pankow
IV
Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf
Charlottenburg, Wilmersdorf
V
Spandau
Spandau (unchanged)
VI
Steglitz-Zehlendorf
Steglitz, Zehlendorf
VII
Tempelhof-Schöenberg
Tempelhof, Schöenberg
VIII
Neukölln
Neukölln (unchanged)
IX
Treptow-Köpenick
Treptow, Köpenick
X
Marzahn-Hellersdorf
Marzahn, Hellersdorf
XI
Lichtenberg
Lichtenberg, Hohenschönhausen
XII
Reinickendorf
Reinickendorf (unchanged)
Each borough is made up of several officially recognized subdistricts or neighborhoods (Ortsteile in German), that can be distinguished in Figure 2. These neighborhoods typically have a historical identity as former independent cities, villages or rural municipalities that were united in 1920 as part of the “Greater Berlin Act,” which established the current configuration of Berlin; when first established in 1920, Berlin was organized into 20 boroughs, most often named after the largest component neighborhood, often a former city or municipality, sometimes named for geographic features (e.g., Kreuzberg, Prenzlauer Berg). Today, Berlin is both a city and one of the 16 states of Germany and is referred to as a city-state (Stadtstaat in German).
On the portal page, in the box labelled “Standesamt,” one must enter the name of the borough one is seeking birth, marriage or death records from. One begins by typing the first few letters of a borough, for example “Ch” for Charlottenburg, and, often, multiple listings for that borough will come up (e.g., Charlottenburg: Standesamt Charlottenburg; Standesamt Charlottenburg I; Standesamt Charlottenburg II; Standesamt Charlottenburg III; Standesamt Charlottenburg IV, etc.); select one, then select death, marriage, and/or death records you wish to see for that borough, then do a “Suchen” (i.e., search). A new page with the list of registers available for that borough or municipality will appear (e.g., Standesamt Charlottenburg IV) (Figure 3). Scrutinize the list until you find the register covering the year(s) you’re seeking; some years may have more than one register for them, while other registers may cover multiple years.
A brief aside about “Standesamt” (German plural: Standesämter); this is a German civil registration office, which is responsible for recording births, marriages, and deaths. Readers will recall my mentioning above that in 1991, the Landesarchiv merged with the Stadtarchiv in Berlin, the latter being where the civil registration records were kept until that time. Soon after the German Empire was created in 1871 from the previous collection of German states (kingdoms, duchies, etc.), a universal system of Standesämter, register offices, was established, taking effect on January 1, 1876. The system had previously been introduced in Prussia on October 1, 1874, so it is no accident that the civil registration records at the Landesarchiv begin in this year. Today, those register offices (Standesämter) are still part of the administration of every German municipality (in small communities, they are often incorporated with other offices of the administration). Since 1876, Germans can only enter a legal marriage in a Standesamt, and every marriage takes place before the local registrar (called Standesbeamter); similarly, every birth must be registered at a register office, as must every death.
I’ve gone into detail about the history on the establishment of Berlin following the Great Berlin Act of 1920, and the organization of the civil register offices, because it partially informs us of the extent of the historic documents they contain as well as the tedious steps that must be followed when querying the civil registration database.
In the time I’ve used the Landesarchiv Berlin database, I’ve only ever found seven documents I was researching. Virtually all my Jewish relatives lived in the well-heeled borough of Charlottenburg, so I ALWAYS begin my searches here, as I would suggest readers looking for their Jewish ancestors also do. Remember that today, the borough including Charlottenburg is named Charlottenburg-Wilmersdorf, so the civil registers for “Wilmersdorf” should also be examined.
Regrettably, the empty box entitled “Standesamt” that you must complete does not provide a complete pull-down menu of all Berlin boroughs or neighborhoods when you start typing so I have no idea how many different boroughs, municipalities, and places are to be found in the civil register, likely dozens if not hundreds.
The first time I used the Landesarchiv database, I was searching for the register listing of my Aunt Susanne Bruck’s marriage to her husband, Dr. Franz Müller. (Figure 4) Because I have the original marriage certificate in my possession, two different ones, I knew they’d gotten married on April 18, 1931 in Berlin-Charlottenburg. (Figures 5-6) Obviously, I began searching the registers that cover this borough, and eventually found their marriage listed in “Standesamt-Charlottenburg III No. 605 (Namensverzeichnis Heiratregister 1924-1933) (name register to the marriage index 1924-1933).” (Figures 7a-b) If readers look carefully at the seal in the lower left corner of the two marriage certificates, you can see where it is stamped “Charlottenburg III.” The “Registernummer 263/1931” in the upper left-hand corner matches the number associated with my aunt and uncle’s names on the register page, so I knew I had located the correct certificate. Even though I have two marriage certificates for my aunt and uncle, I still requested a copy of the official document from the Landesarchiv, and much to my surprise it was different and included two pages, the second of which listed witnesses. (Figures 8a-b) For this reason, even if readers have originals of vital documents for your ancestors, I still recommend you request copies of any documents you may find in the Landesarchiv database; you never know what surprises may await you.
The next person I researched in the Landesarchiv database was my great-aunt Franziska Bruck (Figure 9), who I knew had committed suicide on January 2, 1942; she too had lived and died in Charlottenburg, and I found her name listed in “Standesamt-Charlottenburg Nr. 713 (Namensverzeichnis Sterberegister 1942) (name register to the death index 1942).” (Figures 10a-b) I similarly requested a copy of my great-aunt’s death certificate and learned she had gruesomely committed suicide by hanging herself (Figure 11); obtaining poison to kill oneself may have been easier for Jews who were once in the medical profession, such as Dr. Ernst Neisser discussed in Post 48, unlike my great-aunt who was a renowned florist.
I’ve recently returned my attention to the Landesarchiv database in connection with writing Post 48 dealing with Dr. Ernst Neisser, who was the husband of my first cousin twice-removed, Margarethe Neisser née Pauly. (Figure 12) To quickly review. According to Susanne Vogel née Neisser, Ernst and Margarethe Neisser’s daughter, Margarethe was institutionalized for the last three years of her life and committed suicide on October 12, 1941. Ernst lived with his first cousin Luise Neisser in Charlottenburg, and the two of them committed suicide the following year after they were ordered to present themselves for deportation to Theresienstadt. In the previous Blog post, I told readers both took poison on October 1, 1942; Luise died that day, but Ernst lingered for four days and succumbed on October 4, 1942.
I was able to locate in the Landesarchiv registers, the death listings for both Margarethe “Sara” Neisser and Luise “Sara” Neisser but, interestingly, for the longest time not for Dr. Ernst Neisser. Margarethe, I found listed in “Standesamt-Charlottenburg Nr. 712 (Namensverzeichnis Sterberegister 1941)” (Figures 13a-b) and Luise in “Standesamt-Charlottenburg Nr. 713 (Namensverzeichnis Sterberegister 1942).” (Figures 14a-b) I’ve requested both of their death certificates from the Landesarchiv, and await their arrival.
Finding Dr. Ernst Neisser’s listing in the Landesarchiv involved some serious forensic work and one I worked out literally as I was writing this post. I knew that Dr. Ernst Neisser lived with his first cousin Luise Neisser in Eichenallee in Charlottenburg; as mentioned above, both Ernst and Luise tried to commit suicide on October 1, 1942, and while Luise succeeded, Ernst lingered until October 4th. Even though they died four days apart, I assumed both their deaths had been registered in Charlottenburg where they lived, but I was unable to find Ernst’s death recorded in any registers for Charlottenburg nor Wilmersdorf.
According to his daughter’s written account of his final days, Ernst died at the Jüdische Krankenhaus Berlin, the Berlin Jewish Hospital, where he’d been taken following his attempted suicide. It occurred to me that Ernst may have had his death registered in the borough where the Jewish Hospital is located; I researched this and discovered the Jüdische Krankenhaus Berlin, which still exists today, is in the borough “Mitte.” To remind readers what I illustrated in the table above, today’s borough Mitte once consisted of three independent boroughs, Mitte, Tiergarten, and Wedding; the registers for “Mitte” and “Tiergarten” yielded nothing, but finally in the last possible register where I thought his name might be listed, in the borough “Wedding,” under October 1942, I found the name “Neißer, Richard Ernst Israel.” (Figures 15a-b) Success at last!
In order to successfully navigate the Landesarchiv database, it is helpful to have at least the month and year when a vital event in an ancestor’s life may have taken place. Ernst and Margarethe Neisser’s daughter, Susanne Vogel née Neisser, noted the place and date of her own marriage to Hans Vogel in the preface to the memoir she wrote about her father’s final days; it took place on the 31st of July 1926 in Berlin. (Figure 16) Assuming, as I always do, the wedding took place in Charlottenburg, I successfully located the spouse and bride’s names in the “Standesamt-Charlottenburg I Nr. 467 (Namensverzeichnis Heiratregister 1921-1927).” (Figures 17a-b)
There is one other great-aunt whose Berlin residence (i.e., “Prenzlauer Allee 113” in the neighborhood of “Prenzlauer Berg” in the Berlin borough of “Pankow”) (Figure 18) and date of death are known to me (i.e., 20th of February 1970), my renowned Socialist ancestor, Elsbeth Bruck (Figure 19); she died in East Berlin well before the fall of the German Democratic Republic in 1990. Still, despite having very specific information for her, to date, I’ve not been able to locate her name in a Landesarchiv register. I assume East Germans were equally meticulous about recording vital statistics, so I conclude I’ve just not worked out the correct parameters as to where she died. It’s possible that, like Dr. Neisser, she died in a hospital in a different borough of East Berlin and that her death was registered in that borough. I simply don’t know.
So, to let me briefly recap some suggestions when searching through the Landesarchiv database. If you think you might have an ancestor or know of someone who was born in Berlin sometime after 1874 (but before 1905), got married there before 1935, and/or died there before 1987, it helps if you can narrow down at least one vital event to a specific year or actual date. Next, if you have any idea where your relative or acquaintance lived in Berlin, this may help you determine the borough where they resided. You may know the actual address where they lived without knowing which modern or historic Berlin neighborhood or borough the street was located, so Google the address and try and narrow it down to a borough; be aware that in Berlin there are multiple streets with the same name (e.g., Kastanienallee (=Chestnut Street)). You may be able to locate where your relative or acquaintance lived by using old Berlin Address Books available through ancestry.com. If you think you’ve finally identified the borough, you can begin your search in the Landesarchiv. As I’ve illustrated through example, Berlin boroughs must be searched by their modern names, as well as by the historic municipalities or neighborhoods that comprised that borough.
I’d be very interested in hearing from any of you who are successful in finding the names of any ancestors or acquaintances in the on-line Berlin State Archive database and obtaining copies of historic documents. Active genealogists know how valuable original vital records can be in establishing precise dates for these events and possibly uncovering another generation of ancestors.
Many readers will not have any relatives nor know of anyone who had any association with Berlin yet be interested in “testing” their skills using the Landesarchiv database to find an actual person connected to the city. For such “puzzle-masters,” I’ve created a challenge to find my grandfather Felix Bruck (Figure 20) in a Berlin register. Figure 21 is a scan of his death certificate (the archaic German word “Todesschein” is used, but the modern German term is “Totenschein”).
Note: This Blog post briefly summarizes a 34-page personal account written in German by Susanne Vogel née Neisser, the daughter of Dr. Ernst Neisser and Margarethe Neisser née Pauly, describing the last months of her father’s life during WWII.
To remind readers, Margarethe Neisser née Pauly (1876-1941) was one of my great-great-aunt Rosalie Pauly née Mockrauer’s (1844-1927) (Figure 1) nine children with Josef Pauly (1843-1916) (Figure 2); Margarethe Pauly and Dr. Ernst Neisser (1863-1942) (Figure 3) married on September 5, 1898 in Stettin, Germany [today: Szcezcin, Poland], and together they had two children, Susanne Vogel née Neisser (1899-1984) (Figure 4) and Peter Neisser (1906-1929). Susanne Vogel authored the moving account of her father’s last months in a 34-page letter she wrote to her first cousin, Liselotte Dieckmann née Neisser (1902-1994) (Figure 5), on March 28, 1947; to further orient the reader, Susanne Vogel was the mother of Agnes Stieda née Vogel (1927-still living) (Figure 6), whose wartime memories were the subject of Post 46.
Susanne Vogel’s account of her father’s last months is on file at the Leo Baeck Institute NewYork/Berlin, but I discovered it while researching Dr. Ernst Neisser on the Internet. Agnes would later tell me about it and suggest it needed eventually to be translated from German. Consequently, Agnes and I have agreed to collaborate on this, so in coming months Agnes will translate her mother’s letter into English, I will edit it, and we’ll make it available to readers through my Blog. In the interim, I asked one of my cousins to summarize the contents. What follows are some highlights of Susanne Vogel’s account, which fill in a few gaps in the timing of the unfortunate events in Ernst and Margarethe Neisser’s lives.
Dr. Ernst Neisser, nicknamed “Bärchen,” was the Director of the municipal hospital in Stettin, Germany from 1895 until his retirement in 1931. Prior to 1909 he published multiple papers on tuberculosis. Beginning in 1902, Dr. Neisser began calling for the establishment of “tuberkulose krankenhäuser,” tuberculosis hospitals, rather than isolation houses for people with heavy consumption, “Schwere Schwindsucht.” For many years, his proposal was ignored, as most physicians wanted to retain the character of what were called “Heilstätten,” sanatoriums, which would be lost if people seriously sick and dying of tuberculosis were admitted. Nonetheless, Dr. Neisser finally prevailed, receiving financial support from the city of Stettin to build the Tuberkulosekrankenhaus in Hohenkrug [a part of Szczecin, Poland] which opened in 1915. This turned out to be such an excellent model that eventually many of the best Heilstätten became tuberculosis hospitals.
Another of Dr. Neisser’s signature accomplishments was the consolidation of all institutions involved in the treatment of tuberculosis (e.g., tuberkulose krankenhäuser, tuberkulose Fürsorgestelle (welfare center), etc.) under one umbrella, resulting in better supervision, improved organization, and enhanced care. Dr. Neisser left the field once he had achieved this goal. Whether by accident or design, his accomplishments in the treatment of tuberculosis do not appear to be acknowledged in sources generally available on-line.
Dr. Neisser was co-inventor with a man named Pollack in 1904 of what is called a “hirnpunktion,” a brain puncture. What I have concluded this involves is a procedure to relieve pressure in the brain caused by an edema (i.e., a condition characterized by an excess of watery fluid collecting in the cavities or tissues of the body, including the brain), or a hematoma (i.e., a solid swelling of clotted blood within the tissues, including the brain). The procedure entails placing a patient on their side with their head bent forward, making a cut along the median line of the head, then pushing through the membrane with a probe to draw out the excess fluid to relieve pressure on the brain.
As researcher and hospital director, Dr. Neisser was interested in lead and arsenic poisoning; pernicious anemia; iodine treatment for these ailments; tick therapy; psittacosis (i.e., “parrot fever”, a zoonotic infectious disease in humans contracted from infected parrots, macaws, cockatiels, etc.); and more. He advocated for a “Krankheitserscheinungen Fortlaufende Beobachtung,” an institute for the continuous observation of illnesses from their onset to their fully-fledged maturation and organized such a department in 1918 at the municipal hospital where he was director. Following his forced retirement in 1931 because of age, 68 at the time, Dr. Neisser became chief of a sanatorium in Altheide [today: Polanica-Zdrój, Poland]. After he was likely forced out of this position because of Nazi ascendancy, he and Margarethe moved to Berlin.
Dr. Neisser loved music and the arts, and to this day some of his descendants are professionally involved in these endeavors.
From Post 45, regular subscribers may recall my discussion about the timing of Margarethe Neisser’s death. From one family tree to which I’ve referred multiple times, “Schlesische Jüdische Familien,” Silesian Jewish Families, I discovered Margarethe Neisser died in December 1942; this never seemed credible because Dr. Neisser committed suicide in October 1942, so I could not understand why she would not have killed herself at the same time. I contacted the family tree manager about this discrepancy, and she told me her data came from two other trees; however, upon reexamining those trees, the family tree manager realized she had erroneously transcribed Margarethe’s death date, and that in fact she had died in December 1941. While this makes much more sense, it turns out even this date was incorrect. According to Susanne Vogel’s account where she summarizes vital statistics for Dr. Neisser and his immediate family, Margarethe died on October 12, 1941. (Figures 7) I want to again caution readers to seriously question information found on other family trees, particularly when no supporting documentation is referenced or attached. Personally, I would rather omit data than incorporate faulty statistics in my family tree.
As a related aside, in an upcoming Blog post I will explain to readers how to use the difficult-to-navigate “Landesarchiv Berlin” database, containing information on births, marriages, and deaths for people who resided in the multiple boroughs and districts of Berlin. As it happens, I was able to locate the death register listing for Margarethe Neisser and confirm she died in October 1941 (Figures 8a-b); I’ve requested a copy of the death certificate, but the Landesarchiv currently has a four-month backlog in processing orders.
According to Susanne Vogel, her mother Margarethe Neisser suffered from chronic depression, and spent the last three years of her life in a sanatorium; it was here she committed suicide in October 1941 and where a funeral service was secretly held in the facility’s cellar. The need to hold the service in secret was likely due to prohibitions on Jewish funerals during the Nazi Era. Ending one’s life was referred to as “going on a journey into the distant country.”
Susanne Vogel spoke of her own circumstances during the war. She wanted to divorce her husband, Hans Vogel (1897-1973) (Figure 9), so that he could work as an art historian, his chosen profession; as the husband of a Jewish wife Hans was forced to do menial clerical work. Despite these circumstances, he would not agree to a divorce. Susanne also mentions that she had hoarded enough poison to end her life if that became necessary, likely Veronal and Scopolamine-Entodal.
Dr. Ernst Neisser’s first cousin, Luise “Lise” Neisser (1861-1942), former teacher, kept house and cooked for him. Circumstances for Jewish people were becoming increasingly restrictive—they could not obtain coal, they were not permitted to use public transportation, and they were only allowed to buy food between the hours of 4 and 5pm.
Whenever Hans and Susanne Vogel visited Ernst and Lise, they would secretly take big, heavy bags with Professor Neisser’s possessions, for example paintings. This was strictly prohibited and dangerous. Ernst may still have believed he would survive the war, and these material things would again matter.
Dr. Neisser and Lise had already decided they would take their own lives if they were ordered to present themselves for deportation. On September 30, 1942, Susanne decided spontaneously to visit them where they lived in Eichenallee [Charlottenburg, Berlin]. Upon arriving at her father’s apartment, she learned he and her aunt Lise had been ordered to present themselves for deportation to Theresienstadt the following morning; typically, Jews received their deportation orders a few weeks in advance. Upon learning of their critical situation, Susanne immediately went to a telephone booth, and called her husband, the sanatorium where her mother had died, the Jewish Community, and their attorney Karl von Lewinski (Figure 10), trying to find a hiding place for her father and aunt, all to no avail; ironically, Mr. v. Lewinski had by that time been able to procure an entry visa for Ernst and Lise to Sweden, but by then Jews could no longer legally leave Germany.
By the time Susanne returned to the apartment, several friends had already gathered there, including Susanne’s husband, as well as the director of the sanatorium who’d brought enough poison for Ernst and Lise. Ernst then opened the last bottle of wine he had saved for this event, which everybody partook of. All persons eventually said their goodbyes, and left Ernst and Lise to take the poison. The following morning the Gestapo had taken Lise to the morgue, but Ernst lingered in a coma for another four days at the Jewish Hospital where he’d been taken, before he too expired, never having regained consciousness. (Figure 11)
Susanne Vogel was investigated by the police department because her father’s clock and identity card were missing, which Susanne had in fact taken. The police also searched the apartment where Ernst and Lise had lived, but all personal papers had already been destroyed. A sympathetic detective superintendent accompanied Susanne to her father’s apartment to inquire about the missing objects, as well as the source of the poison, and “believed” her when she told him she didn’t know. The detective also questioned the building superintendent, who spoke kindly of Ernst and Lise, but she too could shed no light on what had happened to Dr. Neisser’s personal belongings.
Susanne discusses the difficulty she faced in convincing the Nazi authorities to allow her to cremate her aunt, as well as her father. Because the Gestapo had taken away Dr. Neisser’s suit, he was wrapped and cremated in a shawl.
Susanne demurs telling Lieselotte Dieckmann about the three years her mother spent in the sanatorium, as well as about the last three days she spent with her cousin Aenne Herrnstadt, who readers may vaguely recall was Agnes Stieda’s godmother and who was deported and murdered in Theresienstadt in 1943.
Susanne Vogel’s account of her father and aunt’s final days is difficult enough to read as a brief summary, so readers need only imagine how melancholy reading the document in its unabbreviated form must be. Still, it is my intention in a future post to present the complete translation so readers may understand the circumstances of Dr. Neisser’s final years, as well as those of similarly “vulnerable” Jews.
