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A totalitarian regime fears the free press

Victims of Nazi employment bans meet in exile

“If he [Dr. Selmar Aschheim] does not get permission to practice, he will team up with Bally or another pharmacy, allow them to use his name and make money with it.”

Paris

One of the first official acts of the new Nazi rulers in 1933 had been the elimination of the independent press. Already in February, the freedom of the press was abolished, and from October, only such individuals who were deemed politically reliable and could prove their “Aryan” descent were admitted to journalistic professions. Ernst Feder (b. 1881), a jurist and erstwhile editor for domestic affairs at the “Berliner Tageblatt,” fulfilled neither of these requirements. In his Parisian exile, he resumed his activities as a journalist as one of the founders of the German-language Pariser Tageblatt (1933-36) and as a freelance writer. On the pages of his diary, he covers a plethora of topics, ranging from the personal to the philosophical and political. Among his friends and fellow exiles was the gynecologist and endocrinologist, Dr. Selmar Aschheim (b. 1878). As Feder notes in his diary on December 30th, the eminent physician and scientist was looking for an alternative source of income, should he be denied the possibility to practice in France. Especially older emigrants often had to overcome major obstacles in order to gain a foothold abroad. Language barriers and admission examinations, for which decades of professional experience were not seen as a substitute, additionally exacerbated the situation.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Ernst Feder Collection, AR 7040 / MF 497

Original:

Box 1, Diary, vol. 13, 1938

Not the country of her dreams

Emigrants don't get to choose

“What's more, I'm actually still trying for the US and England and then, in peace and comfort, will decide where will be best for me. I'm not very eager to stay in Pal[estine].”

Siena/Turin

Stella was not thrilled about the idea of living in Palestine. Like her friend, Annemarie Riess, with whom she shared her feelings on December 28th, she had fled to Italy. But as a Jew, she was no longer welcome there, either. According to the fascist regime’s new racial laws, non-native Jews were to leave the country within six months. 2,000 of the 10,000 foreign Jews who had settled down in Italy before 1919 were exempt from the provision. At least Stella had an immigration certificate for Palestine, issued by the Mandatory Government, and at a Tel Aviv clinic, an unpaid position that came with free room and board was waiting for her. Nevertheless, she continued to try to get permission to enter the US or England. Actually, even the offer on an unpaid position was more than many immigrant physicians could expect in Palestine. Since 1936, there was a surplus of physicians in the land, and a new wave of immigration after the annexation of Austria in February 1938 (“Anschluss”) had aggravated the situation even more.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Anneliese Riess Collection, AR 10019

Original:

Box 1, folder 10

Dependent on the kindness of others

Dismal prospects

“I don't need to describe to you how we are in light of all that is ahead of us—dissolving everything that is there-the family-the apartment—transplantation into foreign, unknown circumstances—dependent on the kindness of others everywhere—parents and children torn apart, without knowing whether there will be a reunion—one barely has the strength to imagine it in advance.”

Berlin/Buenos Aires

As the wife of a successful architect, Anna Nachtlicht had enjoyed social prestige and experienced years of material comfort. However, in 1932, the Great Depression forced the couple to auction off their art collection, and in 1933, Leo Nachtlicht lost his occupation. Eventually, the couple was left with no other choice but to rent out rooms. The couple’s two adult daughters, Ursula (b. 1909) and Ilse (b. 1912) contributed to the household. But the situation became untenable. As Anna Nachtlicht writes to her brother Max in Argentina on December 17th, the family had “every reason” to fear that they were about to lose their apartment in Berlin-Wilmersdorf, on top of everything else. While there was realistic hope that their daughters would soon find employment in England, Anna and Leo’s efforts to find refuge abroad had remained largely unsuccessful. Relatives on Leo’s side in France had agreed to house the couple temporarily, until a third country would offer them a permanent home. Anna Nachtlicht clearly resented having to ask for help and deplored the dependence on others, but the constant decline of the situation and dark forebodings left her no choice. She had heard that Argentina was about to change its immigration policy and make it possible to request permits for siblings. With undisguised despair, she asks her brother in Buenos Aires to immediately request a reunification with her and facilitate their emigration.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Nachtlicht Family Collection, AR 25031

Original:

Box 1, folder 7

The plain truth

Ban to practice for lawyers

“[...] I must say it again and again, much as we miss you and long for you, we are happy and content that you are doing so well.”

Hamburg/Broadstairs, Kent

Julie Jonas in Hamburg and her daughters, Elisabeth and Margarethe, had sworn to report to each other truthfully on their emotional well-being. Almost daily, there was an exchange of postcards. For a few weeks, the two girls had been in England. Their father, the lawyer Julius Jonas, had outlasted several Nazi laws aimed at pushing Jews and opponents of the regime out of the legal professions. But with the issue of the “Fifth Decree Supplementing the Reich Citizenship Law” on November 30th, 1938, he was disbarred. December 15th was his birthday. Already on the day before, Julie Jonas had written to the children that their nerves had worn “rather thin” and that they weren’t at all in the mood for a birthday. Nevertheless she bravely tried to show her joy about the girls’ well-being.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Elizabeth Melamid Collection, AR 25691

Original:

Box 1, folder 1

With the blessings of the Nazis

A Jewish press product with the blessings of the Propaganda Ministry

“Reich Ministry for Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda (Dept. 2A) There are no objections to the publication of this issue (no. 6, 12/13/38). The ‘Jüdische Nachrichtenblatt’ is authorized for distribution among the Jewish segment of the population in the territory of the German Reich. Berlin, 12/12/38 Signed, Hinkel” [from the Berlin edition of the paper]

VIENNA

Until 1938, dozens of Jewish periodicals managed to withstand the mounting pressure of the regime. However, even since 1935, they were no longer publicly for sale, and since 1937, their freedom of reporting had been severely curtailed. After the Pogrom Night of November 9th to 10th (later known as “Kristallnacht”), a comprehensive prohibition brought the over-130-year history of the Jewish press in Germany to an abrupt halt. In order to be able nevertheless to spread official communiques through a paper aimed specifically at Jews, a Jewish newsletter, the “Jüdische Nachrichtenblatt” was established, the first issue of which was published on November 23rd in Berlin. Albeit edited by Jews, it was under total control of the Reich Ministry of Popular Enlightenment and Propaganda. On December 13th, the Vienna edition appeared for the first time.

Banks as accomplices

German banks block Jewish accounts

“I sent away even the child. The fear and lack of security in our own home are too great. I am sitting and writing to patients asking to pay the bill. For the first time in my life, I have to ask for money.”

Berlin

As double earners, the Nathorffs did quite well materially for a number of years: the pediatrician Hertha Nathorff was the director of a children’s home and baby nursery run by the Red Cross in Berlin Charlottenburg, and her husband, Erich, was an internist at the Moabit Hospital. On the side, the couple had a private practice. Shortly after the Nazis came to power, both lost their positions, but they maintained their joint practice until September 1938, when the licenses of all Jewish physicians were revoked. Erich Nathorff was among the few Jewish physicians who were allowed to tend to the needs of Jewish patients exclusively as so-called “caretakers of the sick.” However, during the November Pogroms, he was incarcerated at the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. On December 4th, Hertha Nathorff confided to her diary that due to the insecure situation, she had “sent away” her son and that she was having financial problems. Due to the Nazis’ policy of blocking the accounts of Jews whose financial situation would have permitted them to leave the country, she had no access to her money.

An unexpected gesture

Resurrected from the garbage

Nuremberg

Thanks to his thriving practice in the Steinbühl neighborhood of Nuremberg, Dr. Adolf Dessauer had achieved a certain prosperity. His generous apartment offered a children’s room for his sons, Heinz and Rolf, maid’s quarters, space for his practice and a waiting room, a living and dining room, and, not least, a bedroom with furniture made of cherry wood. In 1937, due to the effects of anti-Semitic legislation targeting doctors, Dr. Dessauer was forced to give up his practice. Emigration was the only solution. But how to take the beautiful bedroom furniture abroad? The Nazis rendered this concern obsolete: During the November pogroms, in the night of November 9 to 10 (later known as “Kristallnacht” or “Night of Broken Glass”), the furniture was smashed to pieces and a portrait of the Nobel laureate, Paul Ehrlich, slashed and ruined. Only a few days after the shock of the brutal destruction, the Dessauers experienced a rare gesture of decency. A total stranger returned the portrait, which was by now perfectly restored.

Banned from his art

Not suited for the advancement of German culture

“According to the results of my examination of the facts grounded in your personal circumstances, you do not possess the requisite aptness and reliability to participate in the advancement of German culture with responsibility towards the people and the Reich.”

Berlin/Dresden

The works of the Expressionist painter and graphic artist Bruno Gimpel were classified as “degenerate” during the Third Reich. Neither his voluntary service as an aide in a military hospital during World War I nor his “mixed marriage” with an “Aryan” woman spared him the usual repressive measures. On November 22nd, 1938 he received a letter from the Reichskammer der Bildenden Künste, the Nazi authority in charge of the visual arts, which yet again denied him membership and banned him from all branches of his profession. In 1935, this institution of the Third Reich had once before rejected a request for admission by the Dresden artist. Since 1937, he had no choice but to make a living by giving drawing lessons to Jewish children.

SOURCE

Institution:

Deutsches Historisches Museum

Collection:

Letter of Bruno Gimpel's membership application, issued by the president of the "Reichskammer der bildenden Künste" (the Third Reich's Imperial Chamber of Fine Arts)

Source available in English

New hope for help

The Feldsteins in Vienna are hoping for help from the Feldsteins in Los Angeles

“I was very happy to hear that you will help us to come to America. I hope that your dear children are in the same age as I am and I shall get good friends.”

VIENNA/LOS ANGELES

For 19 years, Fritz Feldstein had been working at a bank in Vienna to the full satisfaction of his superiors. But, in 1938, after Nazi Germany annexed neighboring Austria, he lost his position. On July 5th, the family registered with the US consulate in Vienna, but for immigration, affidavits were needed. After months of deeply upsetting political changes, Fritz Feldstein ventured an unusual step. On Oct. 16th, he turned to a Julius Feldstein in Los Angeles who, he hoped, might be a relative, appealing to “the well-known American readiness to help.” Soon, a correspondence developed, also involving Fritz’s wife, Martha, and their daughter, Gerda. The 11-year-old was not only a skillful piano player, she obviously also had a knack for languages. On November 20th, she writes to the Feldsteins in California for the first time – in English.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Fritz Feldstein Family Collection, AR 3250

Original:

Box 1, folder 1

Source available in English

What is already bad gets worse

A dwindling circle of friends

Two weeks ago, the old Goldmanns disappeared without a peep. We don’t know where they are.

BERLIN

The Intrators had been forced to flee once before: the anti-Jewish climate in their native country, Poland, had caused Rachel (Rosa) and Jakob in 1905 to make Berlin their home. Their son Alexander, born the same year, later became a successful concert violinist. Gerhard, five years his junior, went to law school, but the Nazis had hardly been brought to power when they began to systematically push Jews out of the legal professions. In light of the hopelessness of pursuing a juridical career in Germany, the 27-year-old emigrated to the US in 1937. Now he was making massive efforts to bring his parents. On November 19th, his father reported on the arrival of the affidavit which was needed for immigration. However, he added, they did not expect to receive their visas any time soon. Meanwhile, their circle of relatives and friends was getting smaller and smaller. Some were being forced by the Nazis to return to Poland, others simply disappeared.

SOURCE

Institution:

Courtesy of Joanne Intrator

Collection:

Letter of Jakob Intrator to Gerhard Intrator

Relative luck

Total destruction and a little bit of luck

“Not one piece remained intact in our home. All the dishes broken, edibles flung onto the floor, flour, sugar etc., all scattered, part of it trampled on, like cake etc., you can't imagine.”

Ludwigshafen/New York

Richard Neubauer was lucky. When, during the November pogroms, throughout the night from the 9th to the 10th (later known as “Kristallnacht” or “Night of Broken Glass”), Nazi thugs destroyed the property of his relatives in Germany, he was already in safety in New York. In this letter, his brother Fritz describes to him in vivid detail the horrific destruction wrought upon Jews and their belongings and the terror caused by the brutality. The Neubauer brothers had inherited the Neubauer Print Shop in Ludwigshafen. Due to the destruction of the free press through its forced conformity under the Nazis, the print shop had lost all its business. Thanks to some lucky coincidences, Fritz, his wife Ruth, and their two children were in possession of train tickets making it possible to legally cross the border into Switzerland. Ruth had managed to salvage them from the wreckage of their furniture.

Chronology of major events in 1938

The Night of Broken Glass

The smoldering synagogue following the night of November 9 in Bamberg.

The night of November 9 is marked by violent assaults against Jews living in Germany, Austria, and the Sudetenland. The pogroms are sanctioned by the government. More than 90 Jews are killed, and 267 synagogues are burned or otherwise destroyed. The windows of Jewish-owned businesses are smashed, and Jewish community centers and homes are looted and vandalized. National Socialist rioters defile Jewish cemeteries, hospitals, and schools while police and firefighters stand idly by. The attacks are a turning point in two senses: First, they represent the moment in which mounting legal discrimination against Jews gives way to organized, state-sponsored mass violence. Second, for Jews in the German Reich, they are the decisive sign that emigration is the only hope of survival.

View chronology of major events in 1938

Fired without pension

Martin Lachmann terminated without his long-promised pension

“I was told that I cannot draw my pension from this portfolio, since a non-Ar. must not receive payments from a portfolio that must mostly be called Aryan.”

BERLIN

Nobody contested Martin Lachmann’s exceptional success as an insurance agent for Allianz. Nevertheless, after 31 years of dedicated work, the company decided “under the pressure of the circumstances” to terminate his contract. In recognition of Lachmann’s achievements, efforts were made to have him transferred to Zurich. But their success depended on immigration authorities in Switzerland. To make matters worse, Lachmann had been informed that he was no longer eligible for the pension stipulated in his contract. It was inconceivable to him how a contract written long before the political sea change in Germany could suddenly be declared void. The pension “voluntarily” offered by Allianz to its outstanding employee amounted to just one-third of his salary and did not begin to cover his needs.

Doctors become “caregivers of the sick”

Discriminatory regulations for Jewish doctors

Nazi authorities were now referring to Jewish doctors as “caregivers of the sick” and forced them to clearly mark their practice signs as those of Jews.

BERLIN

The dimensions of the triangles of the Star of David which Jewish “caregivers of the sick” were to add to the signs for their offices was from now on to be 3 1/2 cm. The specifications in the letter dated of October 12th, 1938, from the Berlin Reich Physicians’ Chamber were meticulous. And they did not end with specifications down to the millimeter: The background color was to be “sky-blue,” and the Star of David in the top left corner was to have a “lemon” color. On September 30th, according to the Reich Citizen Law, licenses for Jewish doctors had expired. Only a few got permission to continue to practice as “caregivers of the sick” of Jewish patients exclusively. The authors hinted that the patronizing had not yet reached its peak: in order to do justice to the requirements of the “Law on the Alteration of Family and Personal Names” (coming into force Jan. 1, 1939), it was advisable to add the name “Israel” or “Sara” to the practice sign already now, to avoid future costs.

 

SOURCE

Institution:

Jüdisches Museum Berlin

Collection:

Hirschberg Family Collection

Anti-Semitism in Italy too

Race-based laws of marriage

“Marriage between ‘Aryan’ Italians and members of the Hamitic (North African), Semitic, or any other ‘non-Aryan’ races was forbidden.”

Rome

The Fascist Grand Council of Italy, a central organ of the Mussolini regime, published a “Declaration on Race” at the beginning of October which in many places was reminiscent of the Nuremberg Laws. Anti-Semitic through and through, the document codified many regulations regarding marriage, Italian citizenship, and the employment of Jews in civil service in Italy. On October 9th, only a few days after its publication, the Jewish Telegraphic Agency reported about this Fascist body of legislation. “Intermarriage” between “Aryan” Italians and “members of the Hamitic (North African), Semitic or other ‘non-Aryan’ races” would henceforth be forbidden. Another regulation hit those Jews who had emigrated to Italy from Austria and Germany especially hard. All Jews who had settled in Italy after 1919, were to lose their Italian citizenship and be expelled.

 

When the private becomes political

A Jewish doctor is expected to violate his confidentiality

“...to let me know as soon as possible, as to whether during the Italians' visits to Stuttgart, you treated for sexually-transmitted diseases German girls or women who indicated that they were infected by Italians.”

Stuttgart

Dr. Ernst Schaumberger was a doctor specializing in skin and sexually-transmitted diseases, a virtually apolitical occupation. However, National-Socialist ideology concerning race and morals interpreted sexual relations as a matter of political interest. Therefore, Dr. Schaumberger’s area of work became political. The confidential request, which he received from the agency of public health in Stuttgart on September 20th, is noteworthy in many ways. He was asked to report whether he had treated any girls or women who were infected with sexually-transmitted diseases due to sexual relations with Italians. So-called “racial hygiene” in National Socialism didn’t shy away from violating medical confidentiality. When Dr. Schaumberger received this letter, his days as a practicing doctor were numbered. He’d already been identified as a “Jewish doctor” in July, and an amendment to the Nazi Reich Citizenship Law decreed that, on the 30th of September, 1938, the licenses of Jewish doctors would expire. Nonetheless, he was still expected to cooperate with the Nazis.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Irene Shomberg Collection, AR 6256

Original:

Box 1, folder 1

By oath to do no harm

A Jewish physician worries about professional consequences of Nazi laws

“The last few weeks a Latin verse by Horace often drifts through my head, which in German translation goes something like this: And if the world collapses, it will strike dead an unshaken man.”

COLOGNE

An astonishing number of German physicians apparently not only had no qualms about being co-opted by the Nazi regime but actively subscribed to its racist and eugenic doctrines, conveniently ignoring their ostensible commitment to the Hippocratic Oath with its stipulation to do no harm. On top of propagating an ideology which declared Jews to be a danger to the “German race,” medical organizations in Germany expelled Jews, making it harder and harder for them to make a living. Under such circumstances, it’s not surprising that Dr. Max Schönenberg, a physician in Cologne, and his musician wife, Erna, supported their son Leopold’s emigration to Palestine in 1937, even though the boy was only 15 years old at the time. In this September 18th, 1938 letter to his son, Dr. Schönenberg touches upon various weighty topics, among them the regime’s recent decision to revoke Jewish doctors’ medical licenses and his uncertainty about his professional future (some Jewish physicians were given permission to treat Jewish patients).

SOURCE

Institution:

NS-Dokumentationszentrum der Stadt Köln

Original:

Best. 46

Schoenberg’s exile

Simultaneously misunderstood and admired

Los Angeles

Arnold Schoenberg was a pioneer of modern compositional techniques. However, his music also polarized listeners. Some freneticially celebrated it, other rejected it as noise. On September 13th, the Vienna native celebrated his 62nd birthday. At this time the musician had been living in the United States for almost five years. Schoenberg, a son of Jewish parents, lost his position at the Prussian Academy of Art soon after the Nazis took power. Thereafter he fled first to Paris, then emigrated to the United States. In Los Angeles, he was able to resume his teaching at the University of California.

A former sanctuary

Growing anti-Semitism in Italy

Rome/Ostia Antica

Rome is the paradise of every ancient historian, a city rife with history. However, for Herbert Bloch, since 1935 a Ph.D. in Roman History, it was something more, a sanctuary from Nazi Germany. The native Berliner had come to the University of Rome as a student shortly after Hitler took over. In 1938, he was part of the team that excavated and examined much of the area of Ostia Antica, the ancient seaport of Rome. The photo shows Bloch on September 11th, 1938, in front of parts of the excavations. But 1938 was also the year in which the previously latent yet tangible anti-Semitism of fascist Italy officially became state policy. Just a few days before this photo was taken, Mussolini had passed the first of many anti-Semitic race laws. The “Measures for the Defense of the Race in the Fascist School” of September 5th, 1938 had especially hit home for Herbert Bloch. The law – among other matters – barred all Jewish teaching staff from schools and universities. Rome could no longer be Bloch’s place of refuge.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Herbert Bloch Collection, AR 25628

Original:

Box 2, folder 12

Don’t give up

The physician Max Wolf wishes to escape the imminent occupational ban

“According to your request, we confirm to you that from 1924 until the 30th of September 1938, you were a full member of the Society of Physicians in Vienna.”

Vienna

Dr. Max Wolf had already found his area of expertise years ago. Since 1922 Wolf practiced as a dermatologist in the Vienna Polyclinic as well as published numerous scientific essays in this field. The Vienna native had studied at the time of the First World War, and shortly thereafter he served on the Italian front as a M.A.S.H. doctor. Now, however, his career was about to end. After the “Anschluss,” the Nazis barred Jewish lawyers and judges in Austria from working. A ban for Jewish doctors was imminent. Meanwhile, Max and his wife Margarata Wolf prepared their emigration. The certificate about Wolf’s membership in the Viennese Society of Physicians makes it clear: Max Wolf did not intend to give up his profession while in exile.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Max and Margareta Wolf Collection, AR 10699

Original:

Box 1, folder 4

Resistance through passport forgery

The postal ID of Felix Perls

Berlin

The Jewish businessman Felix Perls was born in Beuthen (Upper Silesia) in 1883. By April 1st, 1938, following Nazi regulations, he had to relinquish his position as director of the Upper Silesian Lumber Industry Corporation. Two months later, he and his wife, Herta, moved to Berlin-Grunewald, in order to escape the hostility in Beuthen. Perls tampered with his 1938 postal ID. He changed its date of issue and its validity period. Postal ID cards were needed for receiving confidential mail but were accepted as identification documents elsewhere too.

Adversity the mother of innovation

Intellectuals plan a housing project in the USA for unemployed Jewish physicians

"You know that as of October 1st, all of us will no longer be doctors; German medical licenses have been revoked for all those of our faith. Of course, there are many who won't know how to make a living and won't be able to continue living here."

BERLIN/NEW YORK

The existential crisis of Jewish doctors in Germany, which had passed through various stages (exclusion from public service and health insurance funds, prohibition of cooperation between Jewish and “Aryan” physicians, etc.) escalated with the employment ban in July 1938 and required a creative approach. On August 25th, Dr. Felix Pinkus, a renowned Berlin dermatologist, wrote to his friend, Dr. Sulzberger, in America, in order to win him over as a fellow campaigner in an aid project. The sociologist and national economist Franz Oppenheimer had come to the idea of establishing a kind of residential colony for former doctors from Germany. The funding for this would be covered by contributions from American-Jewish doctors. According to Oppenheimer’s calculations, roughly 1,000 physicians would use this remedy. (Dr. Pinkus estimated that it was closer to 3,000).

 

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Felix Pinkus Family Collection, AR 25456

Original:

Box 1, folder 41

Coercion

Joachim Weinert is both shoved and stood up by bureaucracy

"I reserve the right to take criminal measures according to § 33 Dev. VO [Foreign Exchange Act] and grant you a period of three days to attend to the matter."

VIENNA

Within the first few months after the annexation of Austria by the Nazis, Dr. Joachim Weichert, a Czech-born lawyer, lost most of his clients. He had no choice but to compile the documents necessary for emigration. In June, the family was notified by the Consulate General of the United States that valid affidavits and other documents had arrived for them from America. Nevertheless, due to the fact that the Czech quota was exhausted for the time being, they were put on a waiting list and told they wouldn’t receive visas for the next eight months. By August 22nd, it had been almost two weeks since Dr. Weichert was ordered by the Devisenstelle (financial administrative office in charge of supervising monetary transactions and emigration) in Vienna to submit within one week an itemized list of his assets. In this official communication from August 22nd, he is given an ultimatum of three days, after which criminal measures will be taken.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Weichert Family Collection, AR 25558

Original:

Box 1, folder 1

Incremental Aryanization

Jewish doctors lose their accreditation

“The number of Jews this new decree affects is estimated at between 6,000 and 7,000.”

Berlin

The percentage of Jews among German physicians was so high that, initially, a comprehensive employment ban did not seem expedient to the Nazis. Instead, they issued the “Administrative Order regarding the Admission of Jewish Physicians” of April 22, 1933, which excluded “non-Aryan” doctors from working with the Statutory Health Insurance Funds unless they began their practice before WWI or could prove that they or their fathers had been frontline soldiers in the war. Starting in 1937, Jews could no longer obtain doctoral degrees. In an August 3, 1938 notice, the Jewish Telegraphic Agency draws attention to the fourth supplementary regulation added to the Reich Citizenship Law, passed days earlier, according to which, effective September 30, Jewish physicians were to lose their medical licences.

Rough sea and swell

After seven days of travel, Anton Felix Perl arrives on a new continent

„Civil Examination Stamp“

QUEBEC

In the eyes of the Nazis, the fact that both his parents had converted to Catholicism in the year of his birth, 1912, and that he was baptized as an infant, did not make Anton Felix Perl any less of a Jew. After attending a Catholic high school in Vienna, the Schottengymnasium, he went to medical school, from which he graduated in 1936. Two years into his residency at the Allgemeines Krankenhaus, he was dismissed on racial grounds. In this stressful situation, Dr. Perl contacted high-ranking Catholic clergymen in Canada. With the help of the archbishops of Winnipeg and Regina, his immigration was arranged, and after a seven-day voyage from Liverpool, he arrived in Canada and got his civil examination stamp from the immigration office in Quebec on July 29, 1938. Canada’s immigration policy was extremely restrictive, especially towards those persecuted for religious or “racial” reasons. For once, Dr. Perl’s baptism certificate proved useful.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Perl Family Collection, AR 25190

Original:

Box 1, folder 1

Source available in English

A scholar’s departure

Ismar Elbogen, a major historian of German Jewry, leaves his homeland

“Professor Ismar Elbogen, noted Jewish scholar, is leaving for the United States to settle there permanently.”

BERLIN

Thanks to decades of scholarly work, notably his seminal works “The Religious Views of the Pharisees” (“Die Religionsanschauungen der Pharisäer,” 1904) and “Jewish Liturgy: A Comprehensive History” (“Der Jüdische Gottesdienst in seiner Entwicklung,” 1913), Prof. Ismar Elbogen was well known internationally, when in 1938, he overcame years of hesitation and decided that the time had come to leave. His efforts as chairman of the education committee of the Reich Representation of German Jews had been severely hampered by the regime, and his last book published in Germany, “The History of Jews in Germany” (“Die Geschichte der Juden in Deutschland,” 1935) had been censored heavily by the propaganda ministry. In the 1920s, several institutions of higher learning in the US (he taught at Hebrew Union College and turned down an offer to teach at Columbia University) had offered him lectureships, so that he had significant contacts overseas when the time came to leave Germany. In today’s report, the Jewish Telegraphic Agency informs its readers of the noted scholar’s impending departure.

SOURCE

Institution:

Jewish Telegraphic Agency

Collection:

“Dr. Elbogen. Noted Scholar, Quitting Reich for U.S.”

Source available in English

In Memoriam

Ludwig Schönmann's golden years take a dark final turn

“Memorial Album dedicated to the memory of my dear father, Ludwig Schönmann”

Vienna

Ludwig Schönmann, born in Neu-Isenburg in Germany in 1865, had come to Austria early in life and was thus spared the first five years of the Hitler regime. But from the day the German army entered Austria to annex the neighboring country in March 1938, the 73-year-old witnessed all the same persecution that had befallen Jews in Germany – only at an accelerated pace. Jewish businesses were ransacked and their owners expropriated. Jews were publicly humiliated and expelled from the Burgenland region, where they had first settled in the 13th century. Jewish students and teachers were pushed out of the universities, and the infamous Nuremberg Laws were extended to Austria, leading to the removal of Jews from public service. The first page of a memorial album in honor of Ludwig Schönmann lists July 24 as the day of his death.

SOURCE

Institution:

Jüdisches Museum Wien

Collection:

Memorial Album for Ludwig Schönmann

Original:

Archiv. Inv. No. 1094

No mountain high enough

Separated by the Nazis, Käthe and Regina keep in touch

“For these things, it would be worth-while keeping something like a diary. And also for the sake of many other things that occur only in our century. Do it, if you can, brave one, admirable one. You certainly have much to say, from this distance, reflections, real ones, not fabricated ones.”

St. Gallen/Binghamton, NY

Käthe Hoerlin and Regina Ullmann had at least three things in common: both had Jewish ancestors, both converted to Catholicism, and both had the trajectories of their lives impacted by the Nazi regime. Regina Ullmann, a poetess and writer, was expelled from the Association for the Protection of the Rights of German Authors (Schutzverband Deutscher Schriftsteller) and left Germany to return to her native St. Gallen, Switzerland. Käthe Hoerlin’s first husband, the music critic Willi Schmid, was executed by the regime in 1934 in a case of mistaken identity. Days after this tragedy, Käthe, who was the secretary of the ill-fated Nanga Parbat expedition, got news that nine of its participants had died trying to climb the famed Himalayan peak. In 1938, thanks to the help of a Nazi official who had assisted her with her compensation claims after Schmid’s death, she got permission to get married to the non-Jewish alpinist and physicist Hermann Hoerlin (marriages between “half-Jews,” as she was classified, and “persons of German blood” required special permits which were rarely given). Hoerlin was highly critical of the regime’s interference in scientific research. This letter, which exudes sincere empathy and interest in her friend’s well-being in her new surroundings as well as groundedness in her Catholic identity, was written by Regina Ullmann just after the Hoerlins had emigrated to the United States.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Kate and Herman Hoerlin Collection, AR 25540

Original:

Box 2, folder 13

Namesakes

Linked only by their common last-name, Kurt and Helen take a leap of faith

“Before I go much further, please let me impress this fact - that my entire family are eagerly awaiting the day that you will arrive in New York [...].”

NEW YORK/VIENNA

When 28-year-old Kurt Kleinmann of Vienna wrote to the Kleinmans in America, he could not have hoped for a kinder, more exuberant response than what he received from 25-year-old Helen. After finding the address of a Kleinman family in the US, Kurt had asked the total strangers in a letter dated May 25 to help him leave Austria by providing him with an affidavit. He had finished law school in Vienna and was now running his father’s wine business. Helen readily adopts the theory that the Kleinmanns and the Kleinmans might actually be related to one another, promising her “cousin” to procure an affidavit for him within the week. Affably and vivaciously, she assures him that the Kleinmans will correspond with him to make the time until departure feel shorter.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Kurt and Helen Kleinman Collection, AR 10738

Original:

Box 1, folder 2

Source available in English

Rejection letter

Dismissed from the post office for being Jewish, Johanna seeks new employment

“I am 37 years old, worked for the Berlin post office for 14 years and was dismissed because of the Aryan Paragraph. The office was very satisfied with my performance.”

Berlin

“The position under discussion has been filled,” was the terse answer Johanna Rosenthal, a former postal clerk, received to her application for a job as a telephone operator. After 14 years of service with the Deutsche Reichspost, she had been dismissed at the end of 1933. As she points out in her letter, her employment in public service as a Jew has been made impossible by the “Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service.” The provisional pension of 68 Reichsmark that she had been granted was not enough to live on, so she sought new employment.

SOURCE

Institution:

Deutsches Historisches Museum

Original:

Johanna Rosenthal's application with negative response ; Inv. Nr. Do2 2002/762

Papers in order

Even 10-year-old Hans must certify his taxes are paid

“I do not have any reservations regarding the emigration of Hans Weichert (10 years old) [...].”

Vienna

Jews wishing to escape the chicanery and physical danger under the Nazis by emigrating had to procure a large number of documents to satisfy both the Nazi authorities and the authorities in the country of destination. In order to obtain permission to leave Germany, applicants had to prove that they did not owe any tax money to the Reich. In addition to the taxes levied on all citizens, prospective emigrants had to pay the co-called “Reich Flight Tax.” Originally introduced during the Great Depression of the late 1920s and early 1930s, the original purpose of the tax was to prevent capital flight from further depleting the national coffers. Under the Nazis, its main purpose was to harass and expropriate Jews. The tax authorities under the Nazi regime certainly did a thorough job. When the Weichert family of Vienna, consisting of the lawyer Joachim Weichert, his wife Käthe, and the couple’s two children, Hans and Lilian, prepared to leave, a tax clearance certificate was issued even to the ten-year-old son. The document was valid for one month. Having all required documents ready and still valid by the time their quota number came up was an additional challenge faced by those wishing to emigrate.

SOURCE

Institution:

Leo Baeck Institute – New York | Berlin

Collection:

Weichert Family Collection, AR 25558

Original:

Box 1, folder 2

Loew Blow

Jewish doctors lose their jobs when a venerable hospital closes

“Many Jewish physicians in Vienna have lost their livelihood due to the closing of the famous Loew Sanitorium by the Gestapo.”

Vienna

Until its forcible closure, reported on by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency on July 7, 1938, the Loew Sanatorium served as a private hospital for the well-heeled in Vienna. Prominent Jewish and non-Jewish patients came here for treatment and surgery. Among the institution’s many illustrious patients were the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, the composer Gustav Mahler, the painter Gustav Klimt and the socialite and composer Anna Mahler-Werfel. The JTA notice specifically mentions the Jewish physicians who lost their livelihood due to the hospital’s closure. According to the criteria established by the Nazis, there were no less than 3,200 Jews or “mixed-blood descendents of Jews” among Vienna’s 4,900 physicians, whereas about one third of the physicians in the country as a whole were Jewish.

SOURCE

Institution:

Jewish Telegraphic Agency

Collection:

“Doctors Lose Post when Gestapo Closes Hospital”

Source available in English

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