by F. M. Worden
This lady Helene came to our table and sat next to me. She leaned over and said to me in a whisper, “I love to meet Americans when they come to Germany, I guess you know you are a very attractive young man? I love American men.”
What could I say? I did say, “I find the German women….” I didn’t get to finish as the women who were accompanying the Nazi men sat at a table just to our front. I said “My, my, what good looking ladies they are.” They all turned to us, smiled and nodded their approval. All I could do was smile and nod back. The whole place filled up with well dressed civilians, uniformed men and lots of beautiful ladies.
We must have sat there at least ten minutes. The place was quiet, not a sound was made. It was eerie, to say the least, to be in this big crowd and no one talked.
Then a bugle sounded, drums started to roll and a large group of young good looking boys entered dressed in brown clothing. Their pants were shorts, with long socks; they all had Sam brown belts on. They started down the aisle between the tables carrying huge red flags with a white circle and a black cross of some kind in the center. There were thirty boys in all marching side by side. At the head table, they split and marched around and stood behind the table like statues. All the men who had been with Hitler came down and stood at the table. All the people jumped up and started calling, “Heil Hitler, Heil Hitler.” They all had their right hands in the air and kept this “Heiling Hitler” going until Hitler reached the table. All the time he had his right hand up and a big smile on his face. He reminded me of a Bantam Rooster about to take on a hen, I thought the whole thing was funny; was that a mistake? Hitler told everyone to sit down. He started to make a speech. He talked for over an hour. No, he yelled, screamed and made all kinds of motions with his hands for over an hour. When he finished, I had a bursting headache, I sure paid dearly for that meal.
There were many white coated young boys serving the meal of roast turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy. A mixed vegetable was also served. I noticed Hitler ate only the vegetables. After the main meal, we had a delicious apple pie and coffee.
When it was all over, Mrs. Dreesen, Helene and I went into a small sitting room off the lobby and had a long talk about my America. Hitler and his group milled around the lobby for some time and then they all just left. I asked the ladies about the black cross symbol in the flag. I had seen it before on American Indian art. They told me it was called a Swastika. It was the symbol of the Nazi party. I had seen it on all the men’s arm bands and on flags hanging from buildings, now I knew what it was about. This night was pretty confusing to me.
I told the ladies I was very tired and I must get to bed. I said, “I had a good time and enjoyed meeting Helene, but I must say good night.” They said we must meet soon and have a real talk, and wished me a good night and a restful sleep.
As I walked home, the fresh air was great. It was a cool fall evening, you could feel winter coming in the air. The heaven was full of stars and I had a homesick feeling. How in the world did I get into that mess this evening? I wondered how all the folks were at home and why I had been so quick to make this journey to go to school. I assured myself everything would be okay. I promised myself I would write the folks tomorrow.
It was almost midnight before I finally got to bed. Tomorrow would be Saturday and I would have to try to locate the university.
After a sound sleep, I got up early and took a shower. The people in the rooms had not gotten up so I had the place to myself. I stayed in the shower longer than I usually did. It felt good just to stand under the hot water and relax. I dressed quickly and went looking for something to eat. The café I had eaten in the day before was closed. All the shops on this street were closed. I had to walk over to the next street to the north to find one open.
After having breakfast, I decided to walk around a bit, sightseeing before going back to my room to write a letter. I had walked past a department store and stopped to window shop when I saw the reflection of Jennifer in the window. She had crossed the street and was coming toward me. As she approached, I stepped out to block her way. “Good morning,” I said in my best German. “You look radiant this morning. Where are you going?”
“I’m on the way to the bakery. I have to do a little work on the books. Are you going my way?”
“Yes, ma’am, may I walk with you?”
“Okay. I’d like that.”
We walked together to the bakery. I asked if she would show me around when she finished. She said she would be pleased to. I asked why all the shops were closed. “It’s our Jewish religious day, we all close on this day.”
I told her I would be in my room. I had a few letters to write. “Call me when you’re finished.” She said she would.
In an hour, she called thru my door that she was ready to go. I had finished my letters and we walked together to post them. This girl was a real pleasure to be with. She asked what I would like to see. I wanted to find the university and a Lutheran church.
“You must be a protestant if you go to the Lutheran church.”
“Yes all my people are.”
She said that my church was not far from her home. “It’s on the east side of the Isar River.”
We had to make quite a walk to reach the Englicher Garten Park. We cut thru the park on a well used path. We had just entered the park when we saw three Hitler youths in their uniforms running our way. Jennifer grabbed my arm and told me we must get off the path to let them pass. I said, “No way.” She insisted. So we did.
As they passed us they yelled, “Death to all Jews.”
“What a terrible thing to say,” I yelled back at them. Jennifer pleaded with me to be quiet.
“We hear that all the time now.” The boys had run and we continued on our way.
We crossed a bridge and there on the other side was my church. We walked north up a street called Thomas Mann. She said we were in the Bogenhausen neighborhood. “Thomas Mann, I know who he was. I read a book he wrote. It was required reading in my English literature class.” I was proud I had remembered his name.
“Yes,” she said, “He is a very famous German writer. He received the Nobel Prize for literature. He attended the University of Munich, we’re passing his house now.” I could see a beautiful two story red brick house that was all boarded up.
“How come his home is boarded up?”
“He is living in Switzerland now. He moved his family three or four years ago,” she told me.
“Why would he leave this wonderful place?”
“He was a very outspoken opponent of Nazism and Adolf Hitler.” She was very positive in her words.
“I think I would be, too, after listening to him last night.” I shook my head as I spoke.
She said she had heard just yesterday that Thomas Mann had moved his family to the USA. I told her he would be well received there.
We walked on down the sidewalk. The next house she said belonged to a Doctor Max Wolfe. “He’s a real nice man. He told my grandfather we should leave Germany.” She started to cry as she spoke. “Many wealthy Jews have already gone.”
We were passing a short wall; I asked her if she would like to sit down for a few minutes. We did and I told her, “This walking I’m not used to. At home I ride a horse all the time and I had a motorcycle for a while, maybe I should get a bicycle or a motor bike.”
“Yes, maybe you should get a bike.” She was still crying.
I put my right arm around her and took her left hand in mine and told her, “I can’t stand to see pretty girls cry. Why are you crying?”
“I was thinking of my father. He’s been gone almost two months now.”
“Where is he?”
“He was told to report to the Gestapo on a Monday morning and he hasn’t come home. We don’t know where he is.” Now she was really crying. I felt helpless, I gave her my handkerchief and did my best to hold her tight. Finally, she stopped sobbing and told me her mother and sister had moved into their Grandparents’ home. “My father
is the Rabbi of our Synagogue. The Synagogue has been closed since he left. You know, Frank,” she said, “We can’t go to our place of worship, we Jews can’t go to the swimming pools, we can’t go to the parks or gather in any public place. We can’t even go to the Cinema.”
“What? I can’t take you to the movies?”
“That’s right,”
“I had no Idea things were this bad for Jews in Germany. I met a man on the train coming in who told me he was selling his factory and leaving Germany. I thought he was overstating his feelings. Now I see he wasn’t.”
She stopped crying and told me she enjoyed my company. We sat on the wall talking for almost an hour. She said I should come home with her and meet her mother, sister and grandmother. I must have looked reluctant as she said, “It’s just a few houses on down this street. We can go and have lunch with my Mother and Grandmother. I’m positive they would like to meet you.”
“Okay.”
We walked on to her home and walked up the driveway to the rear of the house. In the rear of the house, there was a two car garage filled with two automobiles. The house was a two story red brick structure built in the same type of architecture as the other homes in the Thomas Mann neighborhood.
We entered thru a screened porch and into a friendly kitchen. The smell of cooking food filled my nostrils and reminded me I was hungry. Jennifer introduced me to her grandmother as the handsome American renting a room at the bakery. Her Grandmother in her broken English said she had wanted to meet me and now she knew why Jennifer had spoken so much about me. Jennifer turned beet red and told her Grandmother she shouldn’t tell family secrets.
I took the grandmother’s hand and said, “Now I know why Jennifer is so pretty.”
The Grandmother said, “I am going to like this American.”
The Grandfather came thru the swinging doors from the dining room and when he saw me, he seemed to be aggravated that I was there. I had met him when I rented the room at the bakery. He told us that he had a meeting going and we should keep the talk down. “Please,” he said, “I don’t want my friends to leave.” He returned back into the dining room. As the doors opened, I could see several men sitting around the table.
Jennifer, in a hushed voice, said, “Jews can’t congregate anywhere, even in our own homes. Grandfather is afraid his company will be scared you might tell the authorities and get them sent to jail.”
“Good grief that is a terrible way to have to live.”
The Grandmother told us to sit down and she would fix us lunch. We had sat for a few minutes when Jennifer’s mother and sister came into the kitchen. She said some Hitler youth had been following them and calling them bad names. The sister was in tears and I could see Jennifer’s mother had been crying. Jennifer went to her mother and tried to console her. There wasn’t much I could say but that I was sorry for people like those kids.
At the introduction to the mother and sister, the mother said she wanted to meet me and could see why Jennifer had made so much over me. Again Jennifer turned beet red and said with anger in her voice, “Mother, please!” I just laughed and so did they, all except Jennifer.
We all sat at the kitchen table and had a good lunch of cream cheese, fresh baked bread from the bakery and milk. Several times, as the dining room door opened, I could hear a few words. Once I heard the Grandfather say, “Leave, the sooner the better.” I surmised the men were planning something.
We sat and talked for the next hour. Heir Golden came in, sat with us and talked awhile. I told them all I had better go as I wanted to walk around downtown Munich and get to know my way around. All the Golden’s were very gracious to me and the Grandfather said something very strange to me when he said that he wished I would have a safe and healthy stay while I was in Germany.
That afternoon as I walked home alone this whole thing of anti-Semitism in Germany was puzzling. Why were the Nazis so against the Jewish people? Somehow I must find out, maybe as a Christian I could help the Jews. I decided I must go to church tomorrow, it being Sunday.
Downtown, I walked passed an auto repair shop and went in to ask the man there if he knew where I might purchase a bicycle or motor bike. This walking was getting old. The man said his name was Hans and just by chance he had a BMW motorcycle for sale. He took me into a back room and there sat the beauty. A black and white BMW with a side car. “She’s a 1929,” he told me.
“Does she run?” I wanted to know.
“Like a top,” She was all covered with dust and cobwebs.
“How much you want for her?”
“Four thousand marks.”
“Too much for me, how about three thousand?” I wanted her, but I didn’t want to spend all my money.
“Okay, you can have her; I’ll get her out, clean her up and have her ready for you Monday morning.”
“I’ll be here with the money.” I walked to my room one happy American motorcycle buyer of a German motorbike.
At the bakery, a big black Mercedes car was waiting for me. The driver said that Helene Hanfsaengl had sent the car for me and that she was waiting for me at her apartment. I found out later that this car was the Fuhrer’s own automobile and the driver was his chauffeur, Emil Maurice, one very talkative individual. I went with him to her apartment, had dinner and a lot of interesting conversation.
She wanted to know what I thought of the new Germany and if things in America were getting better with Franklin Roosevelt in office? I told her as far as my family was concerned we were getting along fine and most of the people I knew were too. I had a lot of serious questions to ask but held them for another time. I didn’t want to make her mad as I could see she was impressed with the Fuhrer.
Around ten o’clock I asked if I could go home. She called the chauffeur. He came to drive me home; I found he is a very talkative individual.
Chapter 6
Hitler’s Chauffer – Rose
On the way home, the Chauffeur started telling me about his life with the Fuhrer. He was proud to be the man’s personal chauffeur. I wanted to ask a lot of questions, but was afraid until he started to say negative things about Hitler. He opened right up and told of a girl he had been in love with. A niece of Hitler’s who Hitler had stopped him from seeing. This girl was in love with him but Hitler wanted her for himself. He made so many demands on the poor girl and kept her almost locked up. She had committed suicide right in the Fuhrer’s apartment with his own pistol.
As he spoke, tears rolled down his cheeks. I heard him say faintly, “God, how I loved that girl.” For some reason, I asked her name. The poor man really began to sob; I told him I was sorry to have asked.
We had parked in front of the bakery. When I started to get out, he stopped me and said he would like to talk for awhile. He said his girls name was Geli Raubal, a daughter of Hitler’s half sister. He said he had loved her so much he almost committed suicide himself. I didn’t know what he expected me to say. I thought he just wanted to talk to someone outside of the people he worked with.
I asked, “Why do you keep working for the man? You don’t seem to like him.”
He sat quiet for a minute before he answered. “The boss is good to me and besides, I wouldn’t know what I could do. They would probably put me in the army, I sure don’t want that.”
I asked if Hitler had a wife.
“No,” he said, “He’ll never marry; he’s married to the Nazi party and Germany. He has a girl friend; she lives in the apartment house you just visited.”
I had to know, so I asked, “What’s she like? Is she pretty?”
“Not bad,” he answered. “Not as pretty as Geli, but a very nice girl, too good for him. He treats her badly; he won’t take her out in public and gets mad if anyone talks to her.”
“That’s a terrible relationship.”
“Yes, I agree. If you ever meet her, stay away, he doesn’t like men talking to her.”
“I’ll never meet her,” .
“You never know. You live her
e in Munich. She shops all the time. He gives her all the money she wants. He’s a very wealthy man.” He seemed concerned about me, I told him I would heed what he said if I ever meet her.
We sat talking for more than an hour, but I never got up the nerve to bring up the Jewish situation. It started to rain and I told him I had letters to write and I was very glad to make his acquaintance. I said, “Good night,” and went up to my room.
I wrote uncle Bob and the folks. I told them I had plans to buy a motorcycle, this was a very large city and I needed some cheap transportation. I liked this bike that I had looked at and thought it would be a good one.
That night, I dreamed I was back in Paris with Lilly and her mother. It all seemed so real when I woke up; I thought I was still in Paris. My bubble burst, I was here in Germany in this lonely room. It was Sunday morning and I had the feeling I had to go to church. After a hot shower, I dressed in my brown suit and headed for the Lutheran Church.
It had rained almost all night and the clear blue cloudless sky was a welcome sight. Most of the gutters in the city were still running with water. At the church, I found a seat near the rear. The service was like ours at home. I could see many young people, quite a few my own age, in the congregation. I said to myself this will be a good place to get to know people. The pastor, a Mr. Emil Cramer, welcomed me with enthusiasm as I left the church. He knew right away I wasn’t a regular German. He invited me to Sunday evening worship. He said he could introduce me to lots of people my age and many who went to the university. I told him I would be there for sure.
I hadn’t eaten anything that morning, so I looked for a café on the way home. I found one on the Maximilan Strasse downtown and stopped in. The place was filled with soldiers and some girls, all seemed to be having a good time. I got looked over pretty good as I entered and sat at the counter. The waitress who took my order was as friendly as any I had ever met. She looked to be in her late teens. When I went to pay, she told me I was welcome to come back anytime.