Don't miss my article at Anachronia
miércoles, 31 de diciembre de 2014
Don't miss my article at Anachronia
miércoles, 24 de diciembre de 2014
It was November 1938, less than a year before the Nazis invaded Poland, and 11-year-old Ellen Nussbaum was startled awake at 5 a.m. to the sound of two gestapo officers knocking on the front door of her parents’ home in Berlin, Germany.
When her parents finally opened the door — themselves having just woken up — the officers informed them that Ellen’s father, Leo Nussbaum, was under arrest.
“They had no reason for the arrest that my mother could find out,” remembers Ellen, now 87. But Leo, a prominent business owner, knew the score. He had committed no crime, true, but the Nussbaums were a Jewish family living in a rapidly changing Germany.
Reason played no role in this.
Still groggy with sleep, Leo “asked to be allowed to freshen up,” Ellen recalls. “So, one of the officers stood in the bathroom with him, his back against the window. The other officer stood outside with his back against the door. It seemed like a lot of people had jumped out of windows [to escape arrests] at that point. They wanted to prevent it.”
As the officers escorted Leo from the building, he called out to his family, “I have a cousin in Louisville, Kentucky. I don’t know his address. See if you can contact him to help me.”
“No name,” Ellen says, “no address.”
It would be months before she saw her father again.
That was 76 years ago, but Ellen remembers it like it was yesterday. In fact, those few short early morning moments would shape the rest of her life. Some months later, she would leave Berlin with her mother, Gertrude — and would never return.
Sitting on the couch in her quaint apartment in Artman assisted living facility, Ellen shows no sign of the turmoil she experienced during World War II. In fact, she’s all class, poised and postured, smiling tenderly in a spotless, cherry red cardigan, with a string of pearls around her neck.
Her banter is witty, her insights bright.
The only hint of the harrowing ordeals she endured can be found in her densely dark, melancholy eyes and the way she nervously offers another cup of coffee when the conversation turns too serious.
Now a published author who has penned five nonfiction books — including two biographies on Nobel Peace Prize laureate Elie Wiesel — and countless autobiographical short stories, Ellen has spent a lot of time poring over the events of her early life, perhaps looking for some meaning in it all.
“I am really amazed at the process of the mind,” she says, her hands folded neatly on her lap. “You put things away — you think — and then something sets it off again,” memories come flooding back. “I’m beginning to think everything is somehow connected.”
She comes back to this often, the idea of connectedness, the thought “that everything that happens in life is meant to, maybe.” Though, she admits, “some things are hard to accept.”
Following his arrest, Leo Nussbaum was taken to Buchenwald concentration camp, where he remained for 11 weeks and served as a hard laborer in a rock quarry. The work was brutal, and later in life, the conditions of the camp would cost Leo his legs — not to mention his finances.
It wasn’t long before the family discovered “the purpose of arresting [Leo] was to get him to sign over his business to his non-Jewish partner,” Ellen says. Such arrests were commonplace during the time, a symptom of a Nazi movement termed Aryanization, defined as a systematic removal of Jewish citizens from business life in Germany.
Leo’s business partner, Ellen says, “knew it was all wrong,” but there was nothing he could do about it. During the months that Leo was in Buchenwald, the partner “tried to help my mother and me, sending us a little money because we had no funds after my father was arrested. He was very decent to us.”
But life was dire without Leo, and matters were getting worse by the day. His final words to her still haunting Gertrude, it was clear the only hope for the Nussbaum family was to get word to the cousin in Louisville — a man no one had ever met; a man no one even knew how to reach.
As an act of outright desperation, Gertrude “sat down and wrote a letter to the mayor of Louisville,” Ellen recalls. It was a shot in the dark, but Ellen’s mother wrote the letter, mailed it and hoped for a reply.
“The mayor,” it turns out, “was German born,” Ellen says, “and he happened to play cards with our relative every Thursday night in a well-known deli in Louisville. The next time they [played cards] the mayor pulled out this letter and said, ‘This came for you. I didn’t open it. Take a look.’
“The mayor was the connection that would help us get out [of Germany].”
Acting fast, the relative, Karl, immediately sent papers and affidavits claiming responsibility for Ellen’s family — Leo included. Gertrude promptly took the paperwork to the American consulate, but was met with yet more difficulty.
“The people at the American consulate were very nasty,” Ellen says. “I always thought they looked down on the people who were trying to get out so desperately. They made all kinds of conditions. They told my mother, ‘In order for your husband to receive a passport or a visa, he has to appear in person.’ And my mother said, ‘That’s a little difficult since he’s in Buchenwald.’”
In the end, it seems, it all came down to money.
“My mother found an American lawyer,” Ellen says, “gave him a heap of money and bribed someone at the consulate.”
Leo was out of Buchenwald in a day.
However, it wasn’t a pleasant exit. His keepers made sure to instill lasting fear in Leo.
“They released him,” Ellen recalls, “and said, ‘Don’t think you’re getting away from us. We’ll find you no matter where you go.’”
Within 24 hours of leaving Buchenwald, Leo darted to his home in Berlin, packed everything he could carry and high-tailed it for Antwerp, Belgium, where he caught a ride on a ship called the Europa. The next time Ellen saw her father was when she and Gertrude reunited with him in Louisville.
Fear of the Gestapo still hanging over him, one of the first things Leo did in Kentucky was to choose a new name for his family. He opened up a phone book, searched through the listings under the letter N and, seemingly at random, chose the surname Norman.
“He liked the name,” she says, “so he changed his name from Nussbaum to Norman. It was funny — my mother would say only criminals change their name.”
From there, and thanks to the generosity of Karl, the Norman family began a safer, albeit humbler life in America.
“[Karl] was tremendous,” Ellen says. His family “arranged for us to have a house that we paid off. They were wonderful to us. When the grandchildren got new clothes, [I] did, too. They gave me music lessons, voice lessons.”
Leo tried to build his business again — in Germany, Ellen says, he sold construction machinery — but the competition was stiff in Louisville, and health complications made matters worse.
“He lost both legs as a result of the rock business in Buchenwald,” Ellen explains. A mixture of diabetes, arteriosclerosis and the hardships endured in the labor camp “took a lot out of him. He had to have both legs amputated in Louisville.”
For a moment a tender silence takes hold of the small apartment in Artman.
“The worst thing,” Ellen says, finally, “was coming here and seeing the wheelchairs again. It brings back memories. And now my husband is in one, too.”
She offers some more coffee.
Time went on. The Norman family adjusted to life in America. Ellen attended the University of Louisville and got a job working as a clerk for NBC, first in Kentucky and then in New York, where she met her husband and took the surname Stern.
After time, she started writing about her experiences.
After time, she started writing about her experiences.
Some of her short stories caught the attention of the Jewish Publication Society, which asked her to write a juvenile biography on Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis.
The book met relative success, and the JPS asked Ellen if she’d be interested in writing a biography on Elie Wiesel, author of the moving, iconic Holocaust memoir “Night.” At the time, Ellen was working as a religious school secretary. She wasn’t sure she was qualified to write about Wiesel, wasn’t even sure he would want her to.
But then, one day, she received a phone call at work: “‘This is Elie Wiesel. I like the way you write. Will you come and see me so we can talk?’
“I’ve never been the same since,” she says.
In Wiesel, Ellen found someone who understood the mark left on her by the events of World War II. She admits she felt that her experiences were slight compared to his — Wiesel famously survived imprisonment and unspeakable brutality in Auschwitz and other concentration camps — but the two expatriates found comfort in one another.
“I went to New York to interview Wiesel,” Ellen recalls, “and for over two hours we talked about our fathers, who had said we’d never leave Europe ... Wiesel of course had much more horrendous experiences [than me]; he was in the camp, he lost everybody. But there was something there like a homecoming. We understood where we came from, had an understanding of each other.”
Still, for Ellen, humility reigned. She couldn’t fathom writing about such a man, so prolific, so brilliant — and a Nobel Peace Prize laureate to boot. Just knowing Wiesel was monumental. But to chronicle his life?
“I said this to him: ‘How can I understand you?’ Here I was, a reformed Jew,” who still felt like that same little girl pushing a doll carriage around the streets of Berlin. “‘You come from a totally different milieu. How can I write about you?’
“He said, ‘You can find me in my books.’”
So Ellen read his books — all 35 of them. More interviews and correspondences ensued, and when all was said and done, Ellen wrote two biographies on Wiesel, the first simply titled “Elie Wiesel”; the second, “Elie Wiesel: Witness for Life.” During a trip in Washington, D.C., Wiesel lost the manuscript to one of those biographies on a train, Ellen says. Thankfully, she had an extra copy.
“The nicest thing,” she says of knowing the author, “is he has stayed a friend. Sometimes you write about people and they don’t like it. But he just wrote me a greeting for the Jewish New Year.”
It is now time, Ellen says, to put history behind her: “I don’t want to write about the past anymore.”
The Artman resident — whose last published work, “The French Physician’s Boy,” was an account of the 1793 yellow fever epidemic in Philadelphia — is ready to focus on the here and now.
“I felt I’d done enough,” she says. “And the world has since then [World War II] gotten into different shapes, unfortunately. So I would just like to be on a more positive track.”
Though, she admits with a laugh, “I haven’t reached it quite yet.”
Leo Norman passed away in 1965, but not, Ellen adds, before meeting his two grandchildren, Lawrence and Michael, who both now live in Montgomery County and visit their mother often. Ellen’s husband, Harold, is never far from her side.
And as for the past that she’s ready to put behind her?
“It was awful,” she says. “We didn’t know what was happening to the rest of the family [back home in Berlin]. And when we found out, it was bad. Oh God.”
Even so, Ellen Stern can find silver linings in almost any memory — “[life’s] been pretty darn good since then; we’re darn lucky and blessed” — and her faith in mankind, though tested, has never wavered.
“People are not all bad,” she says, simply. “People are not all bad.”
domingo, 21 de diciembre de 2014
Edward Mosberg, born in 1926, is a sole survivor out of sixteen members of his family of the Holocaust
Edward Mosberg spoke to the Fifth Grade students at Eastlake School on Thursday, December 19. Eastlake Prinicipal Mr. Mark Gray, Dr. Nancy Gigante, Assistant Superintendent/Chief Academic Officer, Mr. Juan Cruz, Director of Secondary Education and Parsippany-Troy Mayor James Barberio was in attendance.
Mosberg, born in 1926, is a sole survivor out of sixteen members of his family of the Holocaust he gave the testimony of his experience. He survived the Karakow Ghetto, Plaszow, Mauthausen and Linz Concentration Camps. Cecile, his wife, survived the Krakow Ghetto, Mieiec, Dubienka and Wielicza. She also survived the Concentration Camp Plaszow, Auschwitz-Birkenau, including two death marches, Bergen Belsen, Gelenau and Mauthausen, where she was liberated at the concentration camp’s stone mines.
Mr. Mosberg’s overall message was to never forget the atrocities of the Holocaust and to spread awareness of what actually happened, from a first-hand account.
Edward Mosberg cannot forget certain images: A Nazi soldier ripping a baby from his mother’s arms and smashing the baby’s head against a wall; another soldier shooting through a rucksack to kill a hidden child. Among the six Holocaust survivors to meet with Pope Benedict XVI during his visit to the Yad Vashem Hall of Remembrance May 11, 2009, Mosberg, now an American and the only survivor from his extended family, said he would have liked a moment with Pope Benedict to tell him about his mother, father and two sisters, in addition to his aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents.
Mosberg, 88, a resident of Powder Mill, was 13 years old when the Nazis entered his native Krakow, Poland, and put his family into the Krakow Ghetto.
But soon his father was killed and, one by one, his grandparents were taken to the gas chambers. When the Nazis liquidated the ghetto March 13, 1943, his remaining family was sent to the Plaszow concentration camp, which was where German Catholic businessman Oskar Schindler drew up his famous list, saving the lives of more than 1,000 Jews. Mosberg and his family, however, were not among those on the list.
From Plaszow, Mosberg’s mother and sisters were taken to the Nazi-run Auschwitz concentration camp, where his mother was killed in the gas chambers. His sisters, Helena and Carolina, were taken to the Stutthof concentration camp in Poland. On the night before liberation, they were among a group of 7,000 young women the Nazis shot, killed and threw into the Baltic Sea.
Mosberg said he survived because he was a strong teenager able to do all kinds of work. He was taken to the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria and forced to work in the stone mines, carrying heavy stones on his back up and down 186 steps all day.
“If you stopped for a moment, they either shot you or they pushed you off the cliff to your death,” he said.
Alone at 19 years old and ill, Mosberg spent eight months in Italy for medical treatment before returning to Krakow, where he met his wife, Cecile, and her father, the only survivors from their family.
Following their wedding in Belgium, in 1951 the couple moved to the United States, where Mosberg went into the construction business. Mosberg has been a developer in Parsippany since 1965, when he came to town as the local representative of the Wilf family, a real estate organization based in Millburn. Over the past four decades, his companies have built thousands of homes in Parsippany.
We can’t go with what was in the past. We have to go to with what will be,” said Mosberg, who has three daughters.
sábado, 20 de diciembre de 2014
miércoles, 17 de diciembre de 2014
What did Racial Hygiene really mean in the Third Reich? Did doctors carried it on freely? #RacialHygiene... http://t.co/kGOc2K4Ajw
— Ana Rubio Serrano (@24_arubio) diciembre 16, 2014
jueves, 4 de diciembre de 2014
Brunner, who was born in 1912 and topped most-wanted lists for his role in the Holocaust, said to have died four years ago in Damascus
viernes, 21 de noviembre de 2014
Auschwitz commander Rudolf Höss was one of the men tried in Nuremberg, in a series of hearings which began 69 years ago today. His grandson tells The Telegraph of his shame over his relative's actions - and why he thinks Europe has not learnt its lessons from the past.
There is no grave marking where Rainer Höss' grandfather lies. But if there were, Mr Hoess knows what he would do.
"I would spit on it," he said. "I can't forgive the burden he brought into our lives. We had to carry a very heavy cross."
Mr Hoess's grandfather was Rudolf Höss – the Nazi commandant of Auschwitz concentration camp, and the man who oversaw the murder of an estimated 1.5 million people.
And November 20 marks the day, 69 years ago, that the trial of his grandfather began in Nuremburg – perhaps the biggest series of trials of the past century.
Mr Hoess, 49, is the only member of his family to publicly denounce his grandfather, who was hanged at the end of the trial, in 1945.
And he told The Telegraph, speaking by phone from his home in Germany how, as a child, he had no idea of the history of the man who died 20 years before he was born.
"There was a dictatorship in the house, and we weren't allowed to disagree," he said. "I had to admire my grandfather like a hero."
Hoess joined the Nazi party in 1922 and 12 years later became part of the SS. His extensive experience at Dachau and Sachsenhausen as well as his long-time friendship with SS commander Heinrich Himmler led to his appointment as commandant at Auschwitz in 1940.
He was the designer and administrator of the gas chambers and the one that introduced the Zyklon B gas that was used to execute children, the elderly and everyone else that was unfit to work.
It was not until Mr Höss was 12, while at boarding school, that he learnt the true story of his dark family secret.
Security guards caught him and his friends stealing from the kitchen, and so the head master of the school punished them by forcing them work in the garden. However, the gardener was an Auschwitz survivor, and the young boy's name immediately caught his attention. So he kept him working for three months – with the pretext that he wasn't working hard enough – and enjoyed slapping and kicking around the unruly pupil. The boy couldn't understand why.
It was only when a teacher told him that his grandfather was responsible for all the agony the gardener had witnessed at the extermination camp, that he understood.
But still his father, Hans-Jurgen – Rudolf's son – dismissed those claims.
"My father would punish my mum and me. My mother tried to kill herself ten times and she once tried to hang herself from the balcony. I tried to kill myself twice and suffered from three heart attacks and a stroke in the 1990s."
Three years later the young Mr Hoess spent the holidays with his grandfather's driver, who told him of the luxurious life enjoyed by Rudolf Hoess in the villa he lived in near the camp.
"Life at the villa was beautiful – but prisoners would be punished there," he said.
"One of them got lost in the garden and was taken back to Auschwitz to be hanged. He was only spared at the last minute because my grandmother needed him to work."
In the villa many Jehovah's Witnesses were forced to work indoors. Communists, political opponents and gipsies were made to work outdoors. No Jews were allowed in the premises.
Hoess's driver added that the Auschwitz commander always ordered a prisoner to sing for him before he went to bed.
"He was a cold-hearted soldier who got 20,000 people killed by dinnertime – with the excuse that he just did his job," said Mr Hoess. "Yet he would later turn to a loving father who would tuck his kids in bed."
Eventually, Mr Hoess left home at the age of 16, trained as a chef, and broke all contact with the rest of his family by 1985. He said that they now call him a traitor.
He had the chance to visit Auschwitz for the first time one cold morning in 2009 with his mother, an Israeli journalist and writer Thomas Harding.
"I couldn't sleep the night before I went, and was walking around my room instead," he said. "At first I was looking for reasons not to go – but I had to check with my own eyes and needed to feel Auschwitz.
"It was hard.
"There was silence inside the car when we arrived. It was scary. I couldn't believe how big it was. I couldn't touch the bricks or anything else."
Mr Hoess's grandfather tried to escape with his family to South America after the war, but was captured by the British, confessed to his crimes in Nuremberg, and was hanged next to the camp's crematoria.
The site of his execution is still there – and Mr Hoess considers it the best part of the tour.
"He couldn't harm or punish people again. I wondered how he felt before being executed. How did he feel while looking at the villa, crematoria and camp?"
Mr Hoess was given a Star of David as a present by a Jewish lady, which he promised to wear at all times. "It offers me joy and help," he said. He was also recently informally adopted as the "grandson" of Eva Mozes Kor - an Auschwitz survivor, who was used in Mengele’s infamous experiments.
He currently lives in south west Germany and speaks at around 70 schools a year where he tells children about his grandfather as well as extremist parties.
"I never miss a chance to take on the far Right, " he said. "I have no fear in facing them."
Mr Hoess said that the "ideology virus" is alive and well in Europe today, and warned that "all far Right parties are exactly the same as the Nazis."
He believes that if his grandfather was alive today, he would definitely join those political bodies.
"Their ideology is the same and they never switched rules. They use horrible phrases to influence young people and say that minorities steal jobs and space. Just like the Nazis did with Jews."
He added that the only difference now is that the far Right parties have learned from the Nazis' mistakes.
"They find effective and silent ways to spread their hate to others. But now they are not just talking about Jews, now the target is much bigger," he said.
"The movements are much better organised than Hitler's Germany. I think the rest of the countries have learned nothing from the past."
viernes, 14 de noviembre de 2014
Part of the Nazi ideology was to preserve the so-called Aryan blood purely and to save the healthy part of the population from the sick one. Jews and Gipsies were considered being of impure and therefore inferior blood. For these ideological reasons they were exposed to being murdered.
To read on download my article on Racial Hygiene and the Third Reich. Here's the link.
To read on download my article on Racial Hygiene and the Third Reich. Here's the link.