Unanswered questions and post-war chaos

Dear grandchildren,

At the end of this entry, Thomas introduces a mystery that has not been solved to this day, 76 years later:

Why had Carl, a full Jew, not been deported? Why, after leading the life of a prominent German citizen until he was booted out of his own bank, was he allowed to lead a completely withdrawn life, almost as if living in exile in his own four walls?

I discussed this question with my father many times. I believe that he was truly convinced that Carl was spared because he was such a good person, a man of the very highest ethical and moral standards. This made no sense to me when I heard it and it makes no sense to me today. My father was a rational, intelligent person. He knew that Nazis had no regard for a Jew’s societal standing, nor for a Jew’s impeccable ethical or moral convictions. Dad knew, logically, that Hitler wanted ALL Jews dead – especially the ones who had wealth and societal standing! But somehow, in Dad’s mind - the part of his mind that forever remained Carl’s devoted and faithful young son - Carl was left alone because he was, in his own words, “given a good grade by the people.”

Dad could not have been more wrong, but there was no convincing him – even 70 years after his father’s death – that perhaps Carl had a Nazi protectorate. That would mean that Carl was willing to act nefariously and illegally, and I just don’t think my dad could ever accept that possibility.

I believe that there were two possible people who might have protected Carl – his brother-in-law, Heinz (the same brother who had urged his sister to “divorce the Jew” years before), with whose family little Ulli had lived since her father’s death, and fellow art enthusiast and fellow art museum board member, Waldemar Bellerstedt, the devout Nazi who had met Carl years before the war began (and for whom Carl was even a mentor), who clearly admired Carl, and who insisted in a letter to Rainier written in 1957, after he was released from a Russian gulag, that he had secured a secret apartment for Carl.

This topic deserves an entry of its own, so next,  I will take a break from transcribing The Rim of the Volcano  to focus more on Waldemar Bellerstedt – who he was and the role he played in Carl’s life. I have a few theories of my own!

But first, Thomas’ musings:

And what, we all wondered out loud, had happened to our older brother Rainer? How had he survived the camp and the bombing? Or had he survived at all? Several attempts to send letters to him in München were unsuccessful, which was not surprising since mailing a letter in Germany in 1945 was about as reliable and as fast as dropping a bottle with a message into the ocean.

(It turns out, THIS is where Rainier had been.)

All communication systems had collapsed exactly when they were most needed. Millions of people were displaced and families that had been scattered in all directions were trying desperately to find each other. Prisoners of war returned from Russia, greeted by piles of debris where their homes had been, with no indication as to the whereabouts of previous inhabitants. Millions had fled their homes as the battlefronts approached and the resulting human pandemonium was so chaotic that even the bureaucracy of compulsory registration with the police was no longer functioning.

There was, however, an amazing word-of-mouth communications network. “Have you heard from so-and-so?” “Do you know someone who’s going to Frankfurt who could take a letter?” “Which POW camp were you in? Do you know someone who looks like this picture?”

Rainer was probably trying to reach us via the same tangled web. Would it work?

I visited Nora almost every day. We sat and talked about ourselves, about our future, about the names we were going to give our children (Nora wanted Bärbel – Barbara - just like her mother. I had my mind set on Klaus-Edward — a healthy Anglo-German mix). We went on hour-long walks in the forest and tortured ourselves and each other with unfulfilled longings. “We are not ready, we must wait until we are both mature enough. We have so much to learn!”

The more time we spent together and the more time we spent with Nora’s parents, the more our relationship turned into a family-sanctioned liaison. Although we weren’t officially engaged, we were regarded by family as an openly engaged couple, as it was the proper grown-up thing to do. Nora, probably encouraged by her resolute and revered mama, began to see herself as the successful doctor, the wife of the young man from the good family, the husband who would eventually be able to support his wife in the manner acceptable to both her and to her parents.

Often my visits were cut short by Nora’s self-imposed obligations. Having decided that she will be a great doctor (and soon!), she studied hard to get high school behind her. I would come to see her, bringing a bunch of wildflowers picked in a meadow on the way, or with a book of poetry in my pocket, ready to shower her with my love (as expressed in poems by others), but much to my chagrin, Nora would talk of how she would combine her career with motherhood, how she would have a beautiful wardrobe, and how she would furnish our house. I spoke of my love to Nora; Nora spoke of the role she was going to play in it — in practical terms.

Eventually, I needed to look after my own future. How was I going to finish school? The improvised classes at the Adelsberg school were certainly not the answer. I needed to talk to teachers from my old school. How much credit would they give me for the private lessons I’d had? What grade would I start in? Would I be in my old class? What would my former classmates say? They all, without exception, had been in the Hitler Youth (albeit with greatly varying degrees of enthusiasm), but now would they all be newly converted anti-fascists, or even Communists?

Being German, I knew that the first thing one needs is something official, an affidavit attesting that the bearer is certified to be politically clean and racially impure, that he was a persecuted Jew under the Nazi regime, that he was in a slave labor camp, and that he is not one of those recent converts.

I borrowed the bike from Onkel Heinz and rode to Chemnitz, which was easy because most of the 8 km trip was downhill. It was my first return to town in several weeks, and it became immediately apparent that I had been living in a vacuum — again. Very little of the rubble had been cleared away yet, except where collapsed buildings had blocked streets, but the closer I got to the center of town the more frequent were the façades of ruins that were covered with huge pictures of Lenin, Marx, and Engels, much larger than Hitler’s pictures had ever been, somewhat more heavy-handed in their pictorial message. Surrounding them were immense red banners with slogans that had a faintly 1930’s ring to them: UNITY OF THE PROLETARIAT! STATE OF WORKERS AND PEASANTS! CRUSH THE FASCIST JUNKERS! Gone were the statues of German war heroes, and in their place were blood-red obelisks, made from plywood, draped with red flags and topped by cardboard stars, erected under Russian supervision, bearing the inscription WE SALUTE THE VICTORIOUS RED ARMY! Some of them were already falling apart from last week’s rain.

Surprisingly, in the very center of town, much of the Rathaus was still standing, all of its windows blown out, much of the roof gone, but at least partly usable in the midst of an ocean of destruction. On the third floor I found an office for Victims of Nazism, and without really knowing exactly what I was after, I spent two hours in line with what I realized must all be former inmates like me.

Looking around in the line, I felt that I wasn’t in the best of company. While most of these people just looked ragged and emaciated, some looked rather scary. Besides, they talked more like underworld figures than like liberated political prisoners. It seemed rather incongruous to me that I had to distance myself again. Some of these people now were playing recent resistance fighters against the Nazis, but in reality they had only recently thrown away their Nazi Party buttons. Others undoubtedly were escaped criminals who now found it useful to masquerade as political victims.

To my surprise, I found behind the desk one of the people from my own barrack, a repulsive bully, who had been a loudmouth even in camp. Although we had never spoken to each other in camp, the personal recognition made it easy for me to get my trilingual certificate without a lot of witnesses and formalities, and as long as I got this official identification paper it didn’t bother me much to be greeted with a raised fist and be addressed as “comrade.”

(Certification that Thomas had been a victim of Nazi persecution and that he had been interned at a Nazi labor camp.)

Next stop: Dr. Epping. I found him in high spirits. The apartment house where he lived had not been bombed, he was once again principal of the girls’ high school, the Russians were his occupiers, and, at long last, he could freely and proudly advocate his Social-Democratic ideals. He, too, gave me a certificate about all the private schooling I had received after I had to leave school.

(And here, in addition, is a certificate of “total destruction via bomb” of Thomas’ childhood home in Chemnitz.)

On my return from Chemnitz, I experimented with a travel technique that I would perfect on future trips. Just beyond the hospital, Zschopauer Straße to Adelsberg started its long, steady climb with a short, steep section of road. The Russian gasoline-driven trucks and the few propane-driven cars had no trouble negotiating this short stretch, but the German trucks that had been converted to run on producer gas (generated from wood chips in a big stinking cylinder behind the cab) would invariably sputter to a near halt after a short run-up, and if a bicyclist placed himself just at the right spot, he needed only a short sprint of uphill pedaling to get up to the speed of the coughing truck, hang on with the left hand (the tailgate latch usually made a well-designed handle!) and be pulled up all the way to Adelsberg at a leisurely pace unless, that is, the truck gave up altogether and the driver had to stop halfway up the grade to stoke the wood chips in his smoldering generator.

I visited Dr. Epping and other friends of the family several times during the next few weeks, partly because I was fascinated by Herr Epping’s socialistic enthusiasm and partly because I wanted to find an answer to a nagging question:

How could it be that, in this town of 350,000 people with a formerly sizable Jewish population, my father was one of (I assumed) only a few Jews who had survived? Why had he not been deported? Much of his property had been confiscated, but how did he manage to live in his own house, a house he hardly ever left? Why, after leading the life of a prominent German citizen until he was booted out of his own bank, was he allowed to lead a completely withdrawn life, almost as if living in exile in his own four walls?

Carl, Thomas, and I are featured guests for the Third International Day of Provenance Research, 2021!

Dearest grandchildren,

A few weeks ago, I was interviewed for the International Day of Provenance Research which highlights the social and academic relevance of provenance research on an international scale. In that interview, I spoke about your great-grandfather, Thomas (my father) and your great-great grandfather, Carl (my grandfather), whose art collection is still quite relevant today.

The article (in German), along with the audio file of my interview (in English) can be found HERE:

https://www.lenbachhaus.de/blog/erinnerung-leben-der-kunstsammler-carl-heumann-und-seine-familie-heute

Here is an English translation (with thanks to Google Translate and apologies to my mother, your great-Omi, who was a dedicated German teacher and is turning in her grave; she would have asked me to translate it myself! Apologies, too, for the bizarre formatting – attempting to fix it just made it all worse!):

 

LIVING MEMORY - The art collector Carl Heumann and his family today. A conversation with Carl’s granddaughter, Carol Heumann Snider

Several German museums are currently researching the art collector Carl Heumann (1886–1945), who created an important collection of German and Austrian art from the 18th and 19th centuries with a focus on Romanticism in the 1920s and 1930s. Because of his Jewish origins, he was persecuted under the National Socialist regime. In recognition of the fate of his persecution, the Kupferstich-Kabinett of the Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden, the Stiftung Preußischer Kulturbesitz in Berlin and the Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus und Kunstbau München turned to the descendants of Carl Heumann to jointly find a just and fair solution regarding the Find works of art from his collection.

In a conversation on the "Day of Provenance Research" on April 14, 2021 with provenance researchers Dr. Katja Lindenau (Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden) and Melanie Wittchow (Lenbachhaus) Carol Heumann Snider, the granddaughter of the art collector Carl Heumann, discusses her grandfather and her father Thomas Heumann. She describes how she preserves the stories of the two of them and their memories for their children and grandchildren. She gives a deep insight into the life of her family and shows how the fate of both ancestors affects all family members to this day and what possible restitutions mean to them.

The interview was conducted in English on March 19, 2021, the 135th birthday of Carl Heumann, recorded and reproduced here in written form in German. You can listen to the original interview here:

(Go to original link, above, and click on the audio file.)

Melanie Wittchow (MW): Hello and welcome to our conversation "Living memories: The art collector Carl Heumann and his family today.” My name is Melanie Wittchow. I am a provenance researcher at the Lenbachhaus in Munich.

Since 2019, we have recognized Provenance Research Day on the second Wednesday in April. This year we are also celebrating »1700 years of Jewish life in Germany«. On this occasion, we would like to talk about how provenance research helps keep memories alive.

We warmly welcome Carol Heumann Snider to this interview. She is the granddaughter of the art collector Carl Heumann from Chemnitz, Germany. We want to talk about him and his family today. Carol, thank you for joining us from Gig Harbor, Washington, USA. It's so nice to have you here today!

A warm welcome also to Katja Lindenau. She is a provenance researcher at the Kupferstich-Kabinett of the Staatliche Kunstsammlungen Dresden. I am very pleased that you are here today for our conversation about the art collector Carl Heumann.

More than two years ago, the museum in Dresden, together with the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation and the Hamburger Kunsthalle, called on those museums whose holdings include objects from the Carl Heumann art collection to recognize the fate of the art collector and his family and to work with the heirs of the family to get in touch. The aim is to find just and fair solutions with them regarding the works of art from the Carl Heumann collection.

Katja, you are one of the researchers in Germany who initiated this. Can you explain how and why it came about?

(The participants in the conversation on March 19, 2021 clockwise from top left to bottom right: Robin Knapp (technical support), Dr. Katja Lindenau (SKD), Carol Heumann Snider (granddaughter of Carl Heumann), Melanie Wittchow (Lenbachhaus)

Katja Lindenau (KL): With pleasure. In my work as a provenance researcher, I check the holdings of our museum for unlawful acquisition. One focus is on the years 1933 to 1945, when the National Socialists were in power in Germany and many works of art changed hands during this time. Much of it has been confiscated by the authorities or the owners have been forced to sell them. A few years ago, colleagues from other museums in Germany and Austria made me aware of the collection of the art collector and patron Carl Heumann.

While looking through our collection, I found two watercolor drawings by the Austrian artist Peter Fendi and an oil-on-paper drawing by Jakob Gensler showing a girl with a parrot. All three works were bought in 1944 by the art dealer C.G. Acquired Boerner in Leipzig. Bit by bit, I tried to find out more about the fate of the previous owner and how these works of art disappeared from his collection. In the end, we knew that Carl Heumann had not voluntarily sold these works, due to his Jewish origins, and we began to contact other museums and the heirs of Carl Heumann.

MW: That's how Katja and I came into contact, and I was able to find out that the Lenbachhaus had also acquired a work of art from Carl Heumann's private collection, namely the drawing "Fischerweide" by the artist Albert Emil Kirchner.

Albert Emil Kirchner, Fischerweide, 1854, pencil drawing, washed, 30.5 x 28.7 cm, Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus and Kunstbau Munich

KL: Carol, we spent months trying to put Carl Heumann's biography together. How and when did you find out about the fate of your grandfather Carl Heumann and your father Thomas Heumann? Did you talk about it in your family?

Carol Heumann Snider (CHS): When I was a child, we talked about my father's childhood. Since it was such a traumatic childhood, I think my father tried to protect us from the trauma he experienced himself. Paintings and watercolors hung on our walls. We knew where they came from. We knew that they came from his father, whom we of course never met. But we didn't know what my father was feeling and thought we just knew that they were from his homeland. Briefly about the background: It was obvious that my parents were immigrants. I knew my father was talking about a suitcase that he had with him when he came to the United States on the ship.

When we talked about his childhood it was mostly in situations where he couldn't escape us, and by that I mean, we were sitting in the car going to Lake Tahoe, for example, which was a four hour drive. We asked him to tell us stories. And he told us these charming stories, like when he and his brother nearly blew up the garage because they had misused their chemistry kit. Or how her little sister took a nap and they took a gingerbread cookie out of the oven and they said, "Oh, we burned your doll." I mean really funny little stories like these that every sibling does would tell.

But he never said, "I went and found my father's body and dug his grave."

These were things that we didn't find out until much later. It only started when I was going to college and my father suddenly felt the need to tell us more. He began to write his first book The Longest Year in the Young Life of Peter Bauer. I think it was easier for him to talk about his trauma in the third person and give himself a pseudonym so as not to have to use the pronoun "I.”.

Most of my childhood he just wanted to protect us. But that changed later.

Thomas Heumann with his four children, Carol Heumann Snider in the middle, 2008, photo: Ulli Heumann Hanley

MW: Can you tell us when and how you first found out that works of art from your grandfather's collection are in Austrian and German museums? How did the collaboration with the provenance researchers develop?

Maybe you can tell us a little bit about Julia Eßl's visit to the USA in 2014?

CSH: Yes, it was a very special day. I think it was January 22nd, 2014. I won't forget it. I woke up, checked my e-mail, and there was a message from a woman named Julia Eßl.She said she was a provenance researcher in Austria and she thinks she had found some works from my grandfather's collection, and asked if I would be willing to speak to her. It was very exciting for me because I had never met my grandfather and only heard stories about him. And now here was someone who seemed to know something about him. So, as a granddaughter interested in her family history, I picked it up straight away.

This was also preceded by a meeting that my father had organized for our family, at which he came into contact with his children, his nieces, his nephews and of course his sister Ulli, who lives in California. He wanted us all to come together because he wanted to leave us things from his past, as he put it "with warm hands,” before he dies.

(Thomas Heumann (left outside) with his sister Ulli (3rd from left) and her family, February 2017, Photo: Claudia Bilbao (Ulli's daughter)

CHS: Among them were some official documents such as my grandfather's Jewish “ID card” and his identity card with the “J” on it. Or a document that said he had been persecuted and that he had been in a labor camp.

He passed all these things on to his family members. It was just amazing to me, it really touched me, and I wanted to know who this person was.

So that was before Julia's email. When this email came my family was planning a trip to Germany and Austria. All six of us - we have four children.

And I said to Julia that we would be in Austria in a few months and asked if we could meet.

The most important thing that stuck in my memory when I met Julia Eßl in the Albertina in Vienna was that she took me to her office and there were three or four very wide binders on a bookshelf with "Carl Heumann" on the spine.

My first thought was, "How is it possible that someone, whom I don't know, knows my grandfather so well that entire binders can be filled with information about him?"

That just aroused the curiosity and excitement regarding my grandfather between Julia and me. We got along really well and became fast friends. After our visit in Vienna, she wrote to me and asked: “What do you think about a visit from me? And that was just the beginning of an absolutely wonderful time.”

When Julia first contacted me and said she had the opportunity to come to America, my father blocked it. But then he gave in and said, "Okay, well, I'll talk to her."

Julia came and spent three or four days with my father. They were best friends. My father couldn't show her enough things. He found a document here and another document there, they spoke German and they became dear, dear friends. When it was time for her to leave there were tears everywhere, including my father. So it was a 180 degree turn.

KL: Thank you, Carol, for this lively report on Julia Eßl's visit and the relationship between Julia and you and your father. We are both very grateful to Julia Eßl in Vienna and Hanna Strzoda in Berlin, who did a lot of research and thankfully shared their findings with us.

At the moment, three museums in Berlin, Dresden and Munich want to return works of art in the near future. Carol, you are the representative of the heirs. That means you speak for all the rightful heirs of your grandfather and regulate the communication between the members of your family and the museums regarding the restitution process. Can you tell us a little bit about what it means for your family to get back the works of art that were confiscated from your grandfather 80 years ago through persecution? We are particularly interested in what the younger generation thinks about it.

CHS: That's a really good question. In fact, as a family, we are grappling with this issue. First of all, the fact that part of the art is being restituted means everything to us because of our connection to our grandfather. This is a man we have never known, but whom we have heard of all our lives. My father spoke of him with great reverence and instilled that in us too, so we knew Carl was a wonderful man. We were sad that we didn't get to know him. This little thread of a connection from Carl to his grandchildren, to his great-grandchildren, means everything to us.

Restitution is a strange thing because it has this very strong emotional aspect. Then there is this logistical aspect. There may also be a financial aspect that we don't want to emphasize at all. But it always finds a way in.

I was the executor of my father's estate, which means that after his death, I took care of everything related to his estate. So I became the main point of contact. I brought his direct descendants, that is six people in the direct line, together. That's a very manageable amount of people to work with. But if you add the next generation, with all of our children, that number goes up to 23. So we kept it pretty small and made decisions together. We met digitally last year, but before that we visited each other.

 

(Thomas Heumann with Carol Heumann Snider's four children, 2012, photo: Carol Snider Heumann)

CHS: About two weeks ago my 30-year-old son came to visit. He is very interested in history and speaks fluent German. He asked how everything was going and I said, “Well, there are some pieces that are being returned to us and we'd like some of them because we'd like to see them on our walls. We would like to see others stay in Germany so that they can be appreciated by the people there. And maybe we want to sell one or two of them. We do not know yet."

My son, who is a very strong personality, replied, “Mom, I would like to be asked to come to the table when these things are discussed. I am also a heir to Carl. He's important to me too, and I think I'm speaking for my cousins ​​when I say please don't make any decisions without us. "

Right now our challenge is how to deal with this issue. How can we respect the opinion of our adult children without turning it into a crazy situation? Perhaps we will talk to our children each time, get their opinion, and come back with a general opinion for our family. It's really important for us to include everyone, but it's not easy. This is where we are right now.

MW: Let's go back to your two blogs that you mentioned earlier. I always love it when someone says it's important to keep memories alive. But you're not just saying that, you're living this idea.

In your two blogs "Northwestladybug" and "Letters from Omi" you tell the story of your grandfather and your father. I especially like your blog Letters from Omi because I love the idea that the blog is aimed at your grandchildren. Each contribution begins with "Dear Grandchildren" and then you tell about family members who, of course, have never met them. This is a great thing to keep memories for the future.

Let's go back to the past one more time. Your grandfather, Carl Heumann was born on March 19, 1886 in Cologne to Jewish parents. He converted to Protestantism in 1917 when he met and married your grandmother,Irmgard, who was a Protestant. Nevertheless, Carl Heumann was regarded by the Nazis as a ”full Jew.” At first he was protected by his so-called privileged mixed marriage, but in 1938 he lost his job in his own bank, he had to pay the "Jewish property tax," and was not allowed to manage his own financial affairs. In short, he was persecuted by the National Socialist system. After the death of his wife  in January 1944, he was even more vulnerable. Tragically, he was killed in the bomb attack on Chemnitz on March 5, 1945.

(Carl Heumann (middle) with his wife Irmgard and the children Thomas (left outside), Ulli (middle) and Rainer (right outside) in the Reichsstraße in Chemnitz, around 1940, anonym)

MW: Your father, Thomas Heumann, survived the Second World War. He left Germany in 1953 and went to the USA. He was also persecuted under National Socialism because of his status as a “Mischling, a so-called half-Jew.

Many Jewish people do not consider themselves religious, but define themselves by their Jewish origin. Can you tell us what role your Jewish origins played in your father's life? Are there any Jewish traditions or rituals that have been kept alive in your family to this day?

CHS: To be honest, I wish they existed. It's kind of strange for me to be the descendant of someone for whom his Jewish heritage played such a tragic role. It didn't kill him directly, but in some ways everything changed for my grandfather because of his Judaism.

When I was a child, I wanted to have a menorah for Christmas. We had one, but there was nothing behind it. Perhaps my father could have made some of the Jewish heritage his own. I think he could have done more research on his Jewish heritage and shared some of it with his children. But maybe I'm too hard on my dad because I think he had a great trauma and I think when he came to the US he wanted to leave it all behind. So the short answer is no. We celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve. We never really celebrated anything related to Jewish heritage.

MW: Thank you Carol for giving us these insights into your family history. That’s so valuable. In our work as provenance researchers, it is wonderful to come into contact with the families and the heirs of the works of art. It is such a pleasant working relationship with you and your family. Thank you very much.

CHS: Thank you very much too! I really like working with both of you and everyone who has contacted us. If we can travel again, we would like to come to Germany, and it would be wonderful to meet everyone in person.

MW / KL: Yes, we'd love that too.

KL: I would also like to thank you, Carol, for your continued support in this very long process of research and restitution.

Through the posts in your blog, we got to know you and your family very well and also learned a lot more about Carl Heumann. But as I said, without the support of the other provenance researchers we would not have come this far, so once again a big thank you to the others who have supported us.

CHS: Yes, also from me. You have all been absolutely wonderful and some friendships have formed.

I would like to tell about another friendship. There was a man named Waldemar Ballerstedt in Chemnitz, who we think could have been a protector of my grandfather. You can read about it on my blog.

His grandson's wife just emailed me - I recently had an operation and she wrote to me, "Carol, we're thinking of you, get well."

So two or three generations later, there is a friendship between the descendants of a Nazi, who may have been my grandfather's protectorate, and the descendants of a persecuted German Jew.

It's just so heartwarming to me that we can forgive, forget and move on.

MW: Yes, that's great to hear. Really very touching.

KL: Nice! Is there anything else you would like to tell us?

CHS: I would like to tell you one more story.

I have a grandson, Leo, who is almost two years old. When he was very young, we showed him the picture of Sophia, a painting by Joseph Hauber from my grandfather's collection that had hung in my childhood home, and then in my parents’ houses, until my father’s death in 2017.

(Leo, the great-great-grandson of Carl Heumann in front of the painting "Sophia" from the Carl Heumann Collection, Chemnitz, 2021, photo: Carol Heumann Snider)

CHS: Leo looked at the picture and waved when he was just eight months old. It then became a tradition that when he slept in our house and woke up in the morning, the first thing he wanted to do was to say good morning to Sophia. And in the evening he insisted on saying good night to Sophia.

When Leo comes to visit now, the first thing he does is go to Sophia to say hello. To me, it's just the essence of everything we try to do to keep Carl's memory and story alive for future generations. Just seeing Leo look up while Sophia looks down at him - there is just this love bond that I can't explain. But the first few times it happened, I teared up. In my will, I will state that my grandson Leo gets the picture of Sophia so that he can have it on his walls when he grows up.

MW: Thank you for this wonderful story.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another Mystery: Why was Carl not on the Final Transport of Jews from Chemnitz (February, 1945)

Dearest grandchildren,

As I began this post, I looked in my photos folder and online for a photo I was sure I had – that of the fiery red sky over Dresden in the distance, over a hillside. I couldn’t find that photo anywhere. Turns out, it doesn't actually exist. It’s a vivid picture only in my own mind, formed when Dad described his experiences on the night of February 13 – 14, 1945.

The bombing of Dresden killed at least 25,000 people. That’s about twice the population of Gig Harbor, where we currently live and about the size of many larger suburbs of Seattle and San Francisco, where you live. It’s still quite unfathomable to me… but so much of the destruction of WWII is.

In this post, Thomas describes that horrible night in Dresden and prepares us for what was to come in Chemnitz. And he again brings up an irony that has impacted generations of our family – the fact that Carl wasn’t deported along with the remaining Jews in Chemnitz.

Here are your great grandfather’s words:

The next few months in Meissen were bearable, not because living was any easier, but because it was becoming obvious, despite all the propaganda to the contrary, that the war was lost and the days of Nazi rule were numbered.

There was a popular quip: “Enjoy the war — peace will be hell!”

I felt I was floating down an increasingly turbulent and treacherous river. No one knew who would survive and who would not, but there was no escape. I’d have to navigate through the rapids as best I could and keep my head — and protect it.

Meissen is a small town about 30 km down the Elbe river from Dresden, and its pride and claim to fame is the manufacture of the fine ancient porcelain known in the US as “Dresden China.” Since there was no other industry, Meissen was relatively safe from air attack, so much so that people would hardly bother to go to the shelter when there was an air raid alert.

One such alarm came on February 13, 1945, a bright wintery day. The “Air Status Report” (given by a system that used the electric power grid rather than the air waves, in order to not provide a radio beacon to the enemy) reported that large numbers of aircraft had entered the air space of Saxony.

It was a spectacular and awesome sight.

Wave after wave of heavy bombers flew overhead -- hundreds of them, in perfect formation, undisturbed by anyone. Their only logical destination was Dresden, the Baroque pride of all of Germany, the “Florence on the Elbe River,” as it was affectionately called. Now, in February 1945, Dresden was the hub for all traffic to and from the east, beyond which lay nothing but the Russian front line. Everyone knew that the city was completely jammed with refugees from Silesia -- hundreds of thousands of people with carts and babies and bundles who were fleeing west in endless treks ahead of the rapidly advancing Russians. At the same time, Dresden was the staging center for troops and materials going east, supplying what was left of the disintegrating German army.

In the afternoon of February 13^th, there could be no more doubt that Dresden was indeed the target. First, there was a column of smoke that rose up in the distance, growing thicker every hour. As night fell, the sky in the direction of Dresden turned color -- first a flickering yellow, then a dirty red, brighter and higher as the night went on. It was a firestorm feeding on itself, consuming everything in its path -- apartment houses, centuries-old churches, medieval books in museums, university laboratories... and ghetto houses filled with Jews.

Hell itself had come to this once proud and cultured city. Air raid sirens, not trumpets, had announced the Last Judgment, and it had come in the form of miles-wide carpets of bombs, incendiaries first, then a wave of explosives, then a wave of phosphorous that ignited anything it touched - roofs, wood, clothes, or flesh. By morning, the column of smoke stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, and the stench stretched 30 kilometers in every direction.

Three days later, on February 16, after serious air raids on Chemnitz, too, Father sent a cryptic message to Rainer and me: “Certainly, there will be many changes soon for both of you. Keep calm, because it all will all depend on the circumstances that are changing from day to day. One thing is clear: in times like these, every single person is on his own. We must try to stay in touch, especially if you are forced to make decisions on your own.”

I believe this was in reference to the last transport of remaining Jews from Chemnitz to Theresienstadt. The transport, according to research by Dr. Nitsche in 2009, consisted of 57 Jews still living in Chemnitz at this late date, just before the end of the war, namely:

• 20 Jews not in privileged mixed marriages, most of whom had no children;
• 26 Jews living in privileged mixed marriages
• 11 “Mischlinge classified as Jews^[1]”

Father was not among these deported Jews. Those Jews were transported to Theresienstadt Camp in Czechoslovakia under the most chaotic circumstances at a time when it was about to be liberated by the Red Army. Every single one of those 57 Jews survived the war!

To this day, I do not know why my father was not included in this last transport from Chemnitz. An expert on the Jewish Mischlinge, Beate Meyer in Hamburg, told me it probably was because Ulli (and I, ironically!) were underage -- yet more than half of the 26 Jews from “privileged” marriages had children under the age of 18.

Was it because my father was widowed? Not at all likely. In fact, my mother’s death would have made my father’s transport more likely, as he was officially no longer married to a non-Jewish wife so he was no longer considered “privileged.” The Gestapo was not known to consider such human reasons.

Did the Nazi Waldemar Ballerstedt have anything to do with protecting my father? Even Ballerstedt himself who, in a 1957 letter to Rainer, made every effort to tell us how he single-handedly protected our father, said no word about this. In fact, he doubted that any such late transport even happened.

Rainer was sure that our father had received an order from the Gestapo early in 1945 that, according to Father’s investigations, could only mean Theresienstadt. On February 21, 1945, Father wrote to Rainer: “On the question of my Dienstverpflichtung (“Work Duty Order”), I haven’t heard a thing in the past three weeks. With all reservations, I can assume that I don’t have to count on that in the VERY immediate future.”

So WHY?

Dad. We talked about this. I have my own theory as to why Carl was not deported. I’ve discussed it before, and we’ll discuss it again today.

Did Father literally buy his freedom from persecution with large sums of money? Very unlikely for the simple reason that it would have been an illegal act, an act of lowering himself to the moral level of the oppressor, and anybody who knew Konsul Heumann knew he would not do that. And anyway, Father simply wasn’t rich enough to buy much of anything, let alone his freedom, after the Nazis confiscated most of what he owned.

I agree that this is unlikely. If it were true, a lot of wealthy Jews would have survived the Holocaust. Nope – wealth just meant more for the Nazis. No way is this the case, Dad. I agree with you.

Did Carl Heumann, being a titular Vice Consul of neutral Portugal, somehow use diplomatic immunity? Would the Nazis have honored this paper status, allowing my father to escape persecution? My only guess in this regard is that the Nazis knew that they would need the good will of neutral nations like Portugal or Switzerland after the war ended. But my father’s life being spared to this end seems unlikely to me.

Hmmm… interesting theory. I think this is a possibility, but also unlikely. I think neither fame nor fortune mattered to the Nazis.

I still think the reason Carl was not deported is because he had a secret protectorate – and I think that person was Waldemar Ballerstedt! 

I do not know why my father was not included on the last transport from Chemnitz in February, 1945, and I probably never will. I only know this: his absence from this transport was the cause for the most absurd irony imaginable: if he had been on this transport, he, like all the fifty-seven others, would have been spared the agony of what was to come. Had my father been on this final transport, my life and the life of many others would have taken a very different turn.

This irony always causes me an existential crisis. These days, writing this blog, I almost feel that I know Carl, my Opa. But HAD he survived, I absolutely wouldn’t be alive. Even if my father had met my mother, I believe Carl would have talked him out of marrying her. My mom wasn’t the type of person Carl would have wanted his son to marry. Mom was spirited, opinionated, feisty, and she lived her life with a  flippant “come-what-may” attitude. Rules? Those are meant to be broken! Carpe Diem! How different from Carl – the careful rule-follower who cared so much about  what others thought -- can you get?!

Yeah, my life (and therefore yours, dear grandchildren) would have taken a very different turn – right into oblivion!

Three weeks later, on March 5, 1945, Chemnitz suffered the same fate as Dresden. Once again, the map of my life – and of so many other lives -- changed.

Now the war was coming home. Chemnitz, a sooty industrial center, was not in the same league as Dresden, but that’s where father was. That’s where my friends were. That’s where my home was. Reliable information was impossible to get now, as the mail service was practically nonexistent and the newspapers reported nothing but the bare minimum, namely that there had been a severe “terror” attack in Chemnitz. Between the lines of the military jargon and the pep talk, it was clear that the attack had been a bad one, a very bad one indeed.

---

^[1] “Mischlinge of the first Degree” who were of Jewish religion, thus were “considered” Jews

Did Carl have a Protectorate? Who was Waldemar Ballerstedt?

Dear Grandkids,

Every good story has an exciting plot twist, a mystery to be solved, or a sharp and unexpected left turn. This story is no different.

When Irmgard died in January, 1944, Carl’s protection was suddenly gone. He was no longer in a protected mixed marriage; now he was simply “the Jew, Carl Israel Heumann.” At that point, one would expect that Carl would be deported “to the East” where, in all likelihood, he would be killed. But Carl was not summoned, and he was not deported. Instead, he lived alone in his home for another full year. By this time, his two sons had been summoned to work camps and his daughter was living with relatives. 

There had been almost 3,000 Jews living in Chemnitz before the war, but by the end of the war, there were fewer than 25. Carl did die at the end of the war, but it wasn’t at the hands of the Nazis; instead, it was as a result of the direct hit of an Allied bomb that was part of a carpet-bombing strike on March 5, 1945.

So why wasn’t Carl taken?

This question is one that both intrigues and haunts me. I asked my dad numerous times what his theory was. His answers usually centered on Carl’s positive personal attributes. He was cooperative; he was apolitical; he knew the law and abided by it; he was, you know, just a really good guy. Seriously, Dad? The Nazis didn’t allow a full (unprotected) Jew to survive because he was a good guy, because he had a nice art collection of the “right kind of art,” or even because he earned an Iron Cross in The Great War.

So why wasn’t Carl taken? This post postulates a theory. Listen up.

Here are my dad’s words:

In November 1942, the Nazis ordered my father to do physical labor, called Erdarbeiten” (“digging-in-soil work”). The only tool my father had ever held in his hand was a sharpened pencil, and now, suddenly, he was being forced to dig with a shovel from daybreak to nightfall.

As you might remember, it was decided at the Wannsee Conference that Jewish men who were not “evacuated to the east” (deported and killed) would be used for construction, military digging work, or other projects requiring hard physical labor.

There are two existing records of my father’s experience with hard physical labor -- you pick!

Version one: Mother wrote to her mother, Adele, that Carl was required to do hard physical work “in a howling storm and rain,” but that Carl accepted this fate without argument or resistance. I personally remember, though, that Vati was physically exhausted from doing work for which he was completely unfit. He said that he and two other people were the only “gentlemen” in the group, a doctor and a lawyer in mixed marriages, like him. The rest, he said, were either “real Jews” or unemployed Aryan men.

“Real Jews”? As opposed to the privileged kind? Wow. I’m gonna have to chalk this up to ignorance. Or to generational changes in attitudes. Or something…!

Version two: Waldemar Ballerstedt was the head of the Chemnitz Museum when Carl served on the Board of Directors of the Chemnitz Kunsthütte (art society). Before the war, in the very early 30s, the two were both friends and professional cohorts. Around 1934, Ballerstedt became the head of Chemnitz Cultural Office and District Cultural Warden for the NSDAP (Nazi Party) and was tasked directly by Hitler to rid Chemnitz of “degenerate art,” a task he undertook boldly and enthusiastically. Make no mistake; Ballerstedt was a full-fledged Nazi. His involvement, in fact, helped create the Nazi strategy for seizing degenerate art.

In late 1957, after ten years as a prisoner in a Russian gulag, and just before an important auction in Stuttgart, in which many works in Carl’s art collection were to be sold, Rainer received a long rambling letter from Ballerstedt. In it, Ballerstedt lamented that he couldn’t attend the auction and that he always held “great admiration for your dear father… with his gifted hands, eyes, and heart.” He gushed about his apparent close friendship with Carl and insisted that he had been instrumental in keeping Carl alive at the end of the war.

“One day,” Ballerstedt wrote, in regard to Carl’s Erdarbeiten, “I got a horror-stricken call from City Construction Supervisor Otto, who belonged to my confidential circle of cohorts, saying he had to do work at the South Arena, and Konsul Heumann was one of the people under his direction. Otto said he sent Konsul Heumann home immediately, believing that action would get my (Ballerstedt’s) approval. Otto asked me to cover his butt, just in case, which I did, with my thanks to him. I assumed full responsibility for what he had done, although I knew that I was already being considered a suspicious subject…”

Waldemar Ballerstedt

In the letter, Ballerstedt presents himself as someone who had the greatest respect for my father and his collection, and claims that he did all kinds of things for my father, none of which can be proven now. He had been a Nazi Party member since 1931 and was prominently in charge of the Museum under Nazi rule. In the letter to Rainer, full of obeisance to Rainer and to Father, he portrays himself as a protector of several Jews. He supposedly rescued Carl’s art collection from the Nazis, protected my father and other Jews in many ways, and even gave details of how, before Christmas 1944, he arranged a hiding place for Father in a small cottage he had in the deep forest -- endangering thereby his own life.

All this may be true, but I don’t know. I have sometimes wondered if my father did have a prominent Nazi protector who would help him in order to secure for himself someone who could act as “Witness for the Defense” after the war. It is possible that Ballerstedt was that protector. On the other hand, none of his claims can be proven now, so I have to leave this possibility open -- for now.

My curiosity about Waldemar Ballerstedt’s role in Carl’s life prompted me to do some digging in early 2015. Who was this man?

A few things are certain: 1.) He worked with Carl in the early 1930s and they had a congenial relationship centered around their mutual appreciation of “good German art.”  2.) Ballerstedt was a high-ranking Nazi; Carl was a full Jew, in a “privileged, protected” marriage until Irmgard’s death in January, 1944, then unprotected and vulnerable. 3.) Ten years after the war ended, Ballerstedt insisted that he had been Carl’s secret protectorate, keeping him out of Nazi clutches in 1944 and early 1945.

I set out to research who this man was and what role he played in Carl’s life. My research led me to Ballerstedt’s grandson, Michael Luts who, coincidentally, lives in Arizona. Ballerstedt's daughter, Waltraud ("Trudy"), born in 1929, is Michael's mother. His father was an American GI named Douglas Luts. According to Michael, Katchen, his grandmother and Waldemar’s second wife, told him "in about 1971 or 1972" that Waldemar protected some Jews in Chemnitz and that "some Jews even testified at his trial" before he was put in a Soviet prison from 1945 to 1955. Interesting! Michael sent me a photo of his grandfather with a group of other men, taken sometime in the 30s.

I told my father about the call and sent him the photo, asking if he by any chance sees Carl. He replied, “No, I don't. Why should I? What is this photo? It has the "golden-Parteiabzeichen-wearer" Ballerstedt prominently in front!  They all look like Nazis to me, with Parteiabzeichen,” the round Nazi party emblem on the lapels; the ones who joined the party very early, like in 1930,  before Hitler assumed power, had a golden edge around it . Those were people you avoided by a mile in Nazi Germany, because they were typically deeply convinced Nazis and had jobs to match their ideology!  Ballerstedt was one of them. That he would have protected my father out of  the goodness of his heart, not expecting art as his eventual reward, is just inconceivable to me!  Ballerstedt was classified by the Russians as one of the "Hauptverbrecher"  ("pricipal criminals") of Nazi times and was held captive for 10 years. I would want nothing whatsoever to do with his family!  Similarly, I avoid contact with the nephew of a man who was in charge of "nazifying",(that is "de-Jewing")  German businesses in Chemnitz.  Of course, the nephew now says his uncle had always been "against the Nazis" all along.  They all claim that nowadays!

Why are you getting all this irrelevant family story?

Love, Dad”

To which I answered, “To me, it comes down to this: love and peace are stronger than hate and war. 
The war ended 70 years ago, Dad. Two generations have passed since Ballerstedt and Carl lived during the same horrific time - and both were victimized, though in quite different ways, by that war. Perhaps the politics of that time mandate that the grandchildren of those involved should not be speaking to one another, but that would just propagate the hate for yet another generation. What good could come from that?

Personally, I find it fascinating that your father was never taken and I would like to find out why. Ballerstedt seems to be a significant piece of that puzzle. There WERE Nazis who helped Jews, and it seems that there's a good chance that he was one of them. Michael Luts specifically remembers his grandmother telling him, in '71 when he was in 7th grade, that Ballerstedt went to prison for being a war criminal and that Jews from Chemnitz testified in his behalf at his trial. That is consistent with what Ballerstedt wrote to Rainer.

As I mentioned to you over Thanksgiving, even people today in Germany do not talk about their grandparents if they were involved in the war, as Nazis or even "just" as drafted German soldiers. It is simply not spoken about, 70 years later - and HUGE pieces of verbal personal histories are being lost. Isn't it possible that it's a good thing that the grandchildren of two men who liked and respected one another, but happened to be on opposite ends of the political spectrum during WWII, come together to find some commonality?

Love, Carol

Dad’s reply was short: “Carol - I accept, but cannot agree with your criticism.

I left Germany specifically because I thought that sooner or later the Germans would again find another excuse to persecute people "different" from them. It was Jews in 1945, it is "Muslims" today, very obviously and openly.  Rainer left for Switzerland for the same reason.

If we forget, they will persecute Jews again.  Yes, they "don't talk" about it.

D.”

Isn’t it ironic that my father left Germany because he thought that sooner or later the Germans would again find another excuse to persecute people "different" from them… and that he came to America where, in 2016, a man who wanted to do just that became president? I don’t think my dad would have survived the Trump presidency (hell, he barely survived a month of it!), and I’m so glad he didn’t have to watch what happened under that bigot.

The long, rambling letter that Ballerstedt wrote to my uncle Rainer just before the major auction in Stuttgart in 1957, insisting that he was Carl’s protectorate, didn’t convince my father, nor did it convince Rainer… but I just don’t know! I think there’s a chance that Ballerstedt was Carl’s protectorate. I’ve questioned whether I should include the letter (Dad’s translation, anyway) here. It’s long and somewhat convoluted, but I’ve highlighted some of the more pertinent parts (for me, anyway).

What do YOU think?

It seems that Ballerstedt’s letter was prompted by his desire (but inability) to attend the auction in Stuttgart that would essentially sell off most of the art from Carl’s art collection. He speaks affectionately of Carl here: “great admiration…” “your dear father…” gifted hands, eyes, heart…” “admired the way he would cut and order glue…” “conversations between us, held dear…”

“…a mentor like Carl Heumann…”  “brim over with what’s in one’s heart…” “in his kind-heartedness…”

Ballerstedt pretty much tells his life story to Rainer. Dad would say he was “buttering Rainer up.” I refrain from the same judgement, at this point. He starts off by implying that politics were never important to him; only art was important, and Carl’s significance was substantial, “not only as an art collector, but as a human being.” He remembers the day – his birthday - when he met Carl at an art exhibit in 1930. He mentions that Carl himself dedicated the exhibit catalog to Ballerstedt.

Then we hear about Walter Hoffman. Hoffman was the Heumann’s pastor and good friend. As you might recall, he confirmed Thomas in the Protestant church years before. So these three men – a Nazi, a full Jew, and a pastor -- were friends, well into the 1930s? Hmmmmm…. not sure how credible that is!

Then Ballerstedt alludes to a mandate to kick Carl off the art council board, adding “I simply could not bring myself to boot your father out the door in the infamous year of 1936.” Remember that it was Ballerstedt’s job as a Nazi to rid Chemnitz of “degenerate art” and, one would presume, of Jews – even if they collected “good, wholesome German art.” Another hmmmmmm… maybe Dad was right!

Then Ballerstedt claims that Carl “quit on his own volition” because not doing so would endanger the museum and Ballerstedt personally.And then he insists that he was “so outraged” when Carl submitted said resignation that he could “hardly see him.” Why do I doubt this?!

Ballerstedt then insists that personal contact with Carl didn’t cease upon his resignation, but “continued almost to the bitter end,” meeting at auction houses, among other places. Did Carl go to auction houses late in the war?

And, of course, Ballerstedt mentions the incident that Irmgard refers to – the Erdarbeit, insisting that he was responsible for “sending Carl home,” and that he did so at professional risk to himself.

And then Ballerstedt essentially says that, through his cunning actions, he saved Carl’s collection from ending up in the hands of the Reich. Later, he risked scrutiny (and worse?) when he insisted on fair credit to Carl’s collection when some art from his collection was on display. IF all this is true, I think it speaks to the possibility that Ballerstedt could have, indeed, been Carl’s protectorate.

Ballerstedt then refers to going for walks with Carl “after black-out” at the end of the war and of secretly welcoming him into the museum where employees could be trusted not to turn either of them in. I’m dubious of this because, from everything I’ve heard, no one could trust anyone – especially at that point in the war!

Ballerstedt mentions that it was on one of their walks that they discussed a hiding place for Carl, “just in case.” We will never know if this actually happened – but unlike my father, I think there’s a possibility that it did!

Ballerstedt mentions someone else for whom he arranged hiding and adds that he had convinced a previous household helper of Carl’s to put Carl (“a nameless man, referred by Ballerstedt) up in her apartment, if needed.

Ballerstedt ends with “ That’s enough, because otherwise some people may get the impression that I want to brag about things that in reality have only been a prayer of simple altruism, as well as of a true Christian and German mindset.”

If all this is true, Ballerstedt is a true hero and a kind-hearted human being who was willing to risk much for his friend, Carl Heumann, and we owe him great gratitude and thanks.

If all this is NOT true, and Ballerstedt was fabricating this long, sordid tale for Rainer, well… what a fucking asshole!

(Do not swear like Omi did, dear grandchildren!)

 

In the PS, Ballerstedt continues to pile it on. He insists that Carl wouldn’t have ended up on a transport because “he would have immediately contacted me himself if he had felt threatened by any danger.” Would Carl have gone into hiding? There’s no way to know.

In this letter to the Stuttgart auction house, Ballerstedt again claims that he was “fortunate to have been instrumental at the time to protect the entire Heumann collection from usurpation by certain parties.

Again, if true, Ballerstedt is my hero. If false, what a con man.

What do YOU think?

A Listing of Laws Against Jews (1942–1944)

My dear grandchildren,

This is disturbing post because it really illustrates those slowly tightening screws that Thomas referred to earlier.

First, we hear that Jews can no longer leave Germany. Then, we just watch as they are slowly dehumanized, from “just” not being able to own pets, to their hard-earned titles being stripped from them, to no longer being allowed to go to school, to being found guilty in court because they are Jews, and finally to be deported to Theresienstadt for just about any “offense” (including the death of a spouse).

There’s not much for me to add here, but I’ll add my personal impressions where relevant. Inserted photos (except those from family albums) are mine, from Google. Italics within the decrees are my father’s.

(Note: Refer to the Bibliography post for reference.)

 

January 3, 1942 (*13, pg. 361):

The emigration of Jews is to be discontinued “since the final solution of the Jewish question is imminent.” (The Wannsee Conference was on January 20, 1942!)

January 4, 1942 (*13, pg. 361):

Wool and fur collection for the Russian front: “The German population would be upset if Jews in the future would wear furs while the German-blooded part of the population voluntarily gives up winter clothing for the front. Voluntary donations from Jews are expected so that house searches can be avoided.” (One day later, the Reichssicherheits-Hauptamt (“National Security Main Office”) made the donation of all furs, wool clothing, skis, boots, etc. mandatory for all Jews who are required to wear the Star of David.)

 

January 7, 1942 (*13, pg. 362):

Poles and Jews are to serve their sentence in separate camps under enhanced conditions of severity.

February 15, 1942 (*13, pg. 364):

Jews are no longer allowed to keep pets.

    

My father has loved animals, especially dogs, all his life. He wanted to be a veterinarian from a very young age. This decree really bothered him, even as an adult.

March 13, 1942 (*13, pg. 366):

Mischlinge (first or second degree, i.e., two or one Jewish grandparents) are not considered “of German or related blood.”

This one really gets to me – and I can only imagine how it got to my father (and his parents)! Can you imagine? If you replace “Jewish” with “German,” it’s like saying to your parents that, because they have two German grandparents (my parents), they are not American, even though they’ve only ever lived here! Or to me that, because I have four German grandparents, I am not American, even though I’ve only ever lived here. Now imagine that those deemed in that way not American are to be sent to their deaths…!

April 1942 (*13, pg. 369):

Jews are not allowed to have Aryan or mixed-marriage persons as visitors.

In her letters to her mother Adele, Irmgard notes that her family hadn’t had visitors for years. And her husband was prisoner in his own home, as his job as bank president had been stripped from him. It must have been extremely depressing. We haven’t been able to have house guests in months, due to the Covid-19 pandemic, and it’s been depressing for me – but that’s NOTHING compared to Irmgard and Carl’s experiences.

April 5, 1942 (*13, pg. 369):

On police registration forms, do not list the destination of transports. Only enter “moved, destination unknown” or “emigrated.”

May 10, 1942 (*13, pg. 372):

Jewish Mischlinge (men) of the first degree must terminate extramarital relationships to women and girls of German blood. Females are to be threatened with police action. Reports are required.

June 12, 1942 (*13, pg. 376 and 380, also 384 and 385/6/7):

Jews, except those in “privileged mixed marriages” must surrender all cameras, binoculars, bicycles, typewriters, any electronic or optical instruments, combs, shavers, etc., nor are they allowed to receive newspapers, magazines, or judicial publications. They are also forbidden to buy ice cream, meat, eggs, milk, etc. If deported, all their property goes to the Reich.

Remember the phone story? Being married to Irmgard was a literal life-saver for Carl, allowing him to live a comparatively normal life. Can you imagine his emotions when she died in January, 1944? In addition to grieving at the loss of his beloved wife, he would now lose everything – the least of which were his camera, binoculars, and typewriter. NOW he had to fear for his life.

June 22 and July 2, 1942 (*13 pgs. 378 and 379):

Mischlinge of the first degree are generally to be admitted to colleges upon special application, but are not to attend high schools, unless they are in their senior year.

Rainer finished high school with private Jewish tutors (who had lost their teaching jobs), but was NOT allowed to go to college, so this one baffles me. Thomas was kicked out of school in junior high, also continuing with tutors and only finished high school after the war, in Ingolstadt (another period of his life that he wrote about, which we’ll get to later).

July 21, 1942 (*13, pg. 382):

Mischlinge of the first degree who have had a relationship with a woman whose husband is in the Army are to be arrested and immediately put into a KZ (concentration camp).

SECRET! August 3, 1942 (*13 pg. 383):

In the next few days, Jews still residing in the state of Swabia will be relocated to Theresienstadt. This also includes the partner in a previous Privileged mixed marriage who does not have to wear the Star of David. (Note: as of January 1944, when Irmgard died, that would have included Carl Heumann, had he lived in the State of Swabia!)

August 7, 1942 (*13, pg. 383) (from the RSHA):

Jews must not use their former titles or professions in submissions or other written communications with Party Offices. This regulation also includes Jews in privileged mixed marriages.

This decree prompted me to google “Carl Heumann konsul Portugal.” I can find nothing, even though original documents show that Carl was the Konsul to Portugal AND that he was allowed to keep that title. So I’m confused. Note to self: follow up on this!

August 26, 1942 (*13, pg. 385):

German-blooded servants and cleaning women may no longer work for Jewish Mischlinge or live in their residence. This regulation is also applicable to privileged mixed marriages. German-blooded servants who remain in the employ and residence of Jews after September 1, 1942 must be reported, including the reasons for doing so. (I don’t know how my father got away with continuing to employ and house Liesbeth, except that she was too old and handicapped to do any work.)

September 9, 1942 (*13, pg. 386 - from the Reich Minister of Justice):

To the High Court Chief Justice: in processes against Jews, the deciding factor is the fact that they are Jews, not in their personal responsibility.

Just… wow. So if you were a Jew and you did something that brings you to court, you are judged on being a Jew (“guilty”), not on your transgression! In other words, justice was absolutely GONE.

September 9, 1942 (*13, pg. 386):

Mischlinge of the first degree are to be dismissed from high school.

I’m not sure if something was lost in translation, but I do know that my father, aunt, and uncle were all kicked out of school (and taught by Jewish tutors who had lost their teaching jobs), so perhaps it meant all school, not just high school. Ulli didn’t know why she had been forced to leave school and believed – even into adulthood – that she wasn’t allowed to go to high school because she wasn’t smart enough! She never did return to school, even after emigrating to America, but she did work for decades at the Children’s Hospital in Oakland, a job she loved.

(Ulli in Sacramento, CA, circa 1962.)

 

September 24,1942 (*13, pg. 388):

Soldiers who want to marry former wives of Jews are to be denied a marriage license. (The reason was that such wives were no longer considered “purely German-blooded.”)

October 10, 1942 (*13, pg. 390):

Privileged mixed marriage Jews are forbidden to contact the Gestapo without being asked. They can contact other offices only through their ombudsman. Books may be bought only from the Reich Jews’ Organization.

March 13 and April 1, 1943 (*13, pg. 396) from RSHA;

Jews or Poles who have completed a sentence for any crime, regardless of type, are to be turned over to a concentration camp (modified to read “to the Gestapo” on April 1).

December 18, 1943 (*13, pg. 401) from RSHA:

Jewish spouses of privileged mixed marriages that no longer exist are to be sent to Theresienstadt. (Note the date: less than 3 weeks before Irmgard died!)

Okay, THIS is where I stop and insist that Carl had a protectorate! Irmgard died in January, 1944. According to this decree, Carl would have immediately been sent to a concentration camp. WHY WASN’T HE? It was NOT because he had earned “a good note from the people,” as my father insists. It was NOT because he’d earned the Iron Cross metal in WWI, proving that he was a “good German.” It was NOT because he had been on the board of the Chemnitz Art Museum (Kunstsammlung Chemnitz) and had a highly-regarded art collection of his own.

OR WAS IT?! Waldemar Bellerstedt was a high-ranking Nazi who had served on the board with Carl and who had admired him and his art collection. Is it possible…..?! Stay tuned!

(Waldemar Bellestedt. Keep him in mind; you will see his name again later.)

October 1944 (*13, pg. 405):

All male Mischlinge of the first degree who are fit for physical labor are to be assigned to the Organisation Todt (the Nazi equivalent of the Corps of Engineers) to be used for construction labor duty.

My father was sent to Meissen, a work camp, in November, 1944. (Not sure why this happened a year after the decree and ten months after his mother’s death.) He remained there until shortly before the end of the war, when he was allowed to go (walk!) back to Chemnitz – where he found his home bombed to the ground and his father’s dead body where the basement had been. That story to come.