My father continues:
School doesn’t last forever, and nothing could be better than vacation time. In the spring of 1938, just after the “Anschluss,” when Austria was “united with Germany” (as they liked to call it), Mother and we three kids spent vacation at Fuschl Lake near Salzburg. Even Father came for a short time, but only after we arrived and Mother could be sure that the hotel did not display “that awful sign” as she called it - the sign that said “Juden unerwünscht!” (“Jews not welcome here”). It had become common by that time for many Germans to display the sign publicly so everyone knew where you stood. If “that awful sign” or the common label “Arisch” (“Aryan”) had been displayed to advertise the racial purity of the hotel’s business, Father would not have come to visit us in Fuschl.
When we came back home from vacation, Mother proved that she was as romantic as ever. ”Look!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm, “They’ve named our street after Friedrich von Schlegel!” Little did she know that the Friedrich Schlegel after whom our historic Reichsstrasse had been re-named was not the famous romantic poet she referred to, but rather an obscure Nazi figure.
Father, meanwhile, concentrated his art collection on a special group of artists called the“Deutsch-Römer” (the “German-Romans”). That sub-group of the Romanticists traveled back and forth between Germany and Italy, where they painted beautiful landscapes.. Father traveled many times during this time to Abruzzi, Naples, Tuscany, and Rome to savor for himself the light and colors that inspired “his” artists to breathe in the air and hear the sounds of Italy.
(From the collection of Carl Heumann: Friedrich Salathe, Italienische Landschaft (Italian countryside)
Something else completely beyond our knowledge or understanding (of course) was happening at the same time. I found out about it a full half-century later from Dr. Jürgen Nitsche, researcher and author of “Juden in Chemnitz” (Jews in Chemnitz), who had discovered some documents pertaining to my father.
In late October, 1938, about a week before Kristallnacht, my father received a registered letter from the Superior Finance Minister for the State of Saxony. It was a Sicherungsanordnung (Safeguarding Order), issued under a 1935 law that regulated and controlled handling of foreign currencies. The letter said:
“1. Any disposition by you personally, or by anyone under your direction, about any of your possessions, requires my approval.
2. You are to submit to me, within five days, an exact listing of all your possessions, and will affirm its accuracy by oath.
3. You are to surrender your passport to me immediately.
Non-compliance will result in punishment by imprisonment and fines.”
My father corresponded regularly with Dr. Jürgen Nitsche for many years, but unfortunately never had a chance to meet him. Oh, how they would have liked each other!
I was lucky to meet Dr. Nitsche in Chemnitz and liked him immediately – partly, of course, because my father had spoken so highly of him, but also because he is a truly wonderful, kind, compassionate, smart man who has dedicated his career to learning more about Jews of Chemnitz and other cities in Saxony and to help the heirs of those Jews learn more about their ancestors.
Left – At the Heinrich-Beck-Schule, Jürgen shows Ulli the archived copy of the book containing her brothers’ school grades.
My new friend, Dr. Jürgen Nitsche and me at the ceremony at the Kunnstsammlung (art museum) Chemnitz, honoring my father and grandfather. Behind us are my kids, Kat and Peter and my cousin, Claudia.
It is my opinion, without documented confirmation, that this action was prompted, at least in part, by my uncles’ emigration to France and the United States. Both of my Father’s brothers, William and Edgar, left Germany in 1937 for the United States. Edgar initially went to France, then to the USA via Marseilles, with help from Varian Fry, an American journalist who helped refugees escape from France (a fascinating story in its own right!). My father had no intention of emigrating with them because he felt very connected to German culture and was actively working on building up his private collection of German Art. His English was poor and he was not about to uproot his family. Plus, he loved the German language and German literature.
(Edgar, left, and William Heumann, right, after they emigrated to the US.)
In his youth (I’m not sure exactly when), Carl converted from the Jewish religion. Although he was born a Jew, Carl considered himself a German through and through. He firmly believed that he had never done anything wrong to anyone, therefore no one could do anything to him. He was convinced that the anti-Jewish government policy couldn’t possibly last, and he maintained this attitude of personal innocence and invincibility all his life.
The Nazi’s written order was followed by lengthy declarations and legal references. The documents I received from Dr. Nitsche included long declarations of my father’s net worth, with details of his financial accounts and his property. It all ended with an application in form of a letter in which Father emphasized his separation from the Jewish population and religion, and his past and current decision to remain in Germany forever.
On May 9, 1940, my father’s application was rejected “on the basis of principle ideological considerations.” As a result, everything my father owned was blocked and inaccessible. He was only allowed to spend what was needed for taxes and insurance, plus a maximum of RM 3,000 monthly for the family’s support and RM 1,000 annually for charitable donations.
Within months, my parents devised a marriage contract that stipulated that my mother, Irmgard, owned the art collection and most of the family’s other possessions. Of course, we kids had no idea about any this. Looking back, it explains a lot about Mutti’s “nervousness” as we perceived it, and it makes Vati’s unflappable optimism and confidence even more admirable. Neither of them could let on to us that anything like that was going on. They were not only concerned about maintaining our innocence about the real world outside of our protected childhood, they were also rightly concerned that, being kids, we would talk about it outside the house, and possibly to the wrong people.
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