The Friedrichs suffered considerably for their faith and their daughter, Brenda Bailey, has described her mother’s response to early anti-Jewish activity:
On 1 April 1933 Hitler ordered a boycott against all Jewish businesses. My mother, Mary Friedrich, decided this was the day on which she would show solidarity with Jewish shopkeepers. We both walked into town. That day it was easy to recognise Jewish stores because they were marked with a yellow circle on a black background, and a brown uniformed SA man stood guarding the entrance. As we tried to go in he would warn us of the boycott, but Mary passed by him, saying she needed to speak to the owner. That evening the cinema showed newsreel film of the boycott, where Mary and I were seen entering shops and the commentator saying that some nameless disloyal people chose to defy the boycott.23
This was an extremely courageous act by Mary Friedrich, but further difficulties were to follow. Quakers were sympathetic to the Jews so early on, as, in 1933, many German Quakers lost their jobs because they would not sign the loyalty oath; amongst them was Leonhard Friedrich. A welfare fund was created to help such unemployed Quakers and those still in work contributed.
Bertha was very active in Europe in the 1930s. ‘It was Bertha’s task to interpret what was happening in Germany to the world outside. So she travelled three or four times a year to listen and to strengthen Quaker links in Germany, Holland, France, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Switzerland, Norway and Sweden.’24
Her experiences led her to become involved in the creation of the remarkable Kindertransport enterprise. It became apparent from Germany that desperate parents were willing to send their children away if this would save them from the Nazis. Wilfrid Israel, a member of a wealthy Jewish retail family that owned N. Israel, one of Berlin’s oldest and best-respected department stores, was involved in the early planning. His mother was English and that meant that when German Jews were in danger, he was able to exploit both his business and English contacts to help them flee.25
Jews seeking to flee could try the Jewish Agency’s Palestine Office to get to Palestine, or the newly created umbrella organisation Reich Representation of German Jews (Reichsvertretung der Deutschen Juden), finally set up in September 1933 and led by common agreement by Rabbi Leo Baeck. The two largest groups were the Central Committee for Relief and Reconstruction and the Hilfsverein der Deutschen Juden (Assistance Organisation for the German Jews). The Hilfsverein helped Jews with the procedure of emigration, advice on visas, contacting relatives abroad and, if necessary, finding money for tickets and so on. Wilfrid Israel was one of the most prominent members of the Hilfsverein.26 Rabbi Leo Baeck’s nephew, Leo Adam, was one of Wilfrid’s employees in the store. One of his friends was Frank Foley, whose job as passport control officer was a cover for his real role as MI6 head of station in the German capital. Wilfrid and Frank had been friends since the 1920s when Frank, as a junior consular official, had helped Wilfrid’s father, Berthold Israel, obtain a visa to join his wife in London, where their daughter Viva (Wilfrid’s sister) was dying. Their friendship was to prove extremely useful for the fleeing German Jews, and Foley himself is now credited with saving 10,000 Jews.27
On 15 November 1938 Wilfrid Israel cabled the Council for German Jewry in London and gave them ‘details of the problems facing the community, and proposed the immediate rescue of German-Jewish children and young people up to the age of seventeen’. As a result, Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain was approached and, although he was non-committal, the proposals were discussed in the Cabinet the next day. The council decided someone needed to meet Wilfrid Israel, and because it was unsafe for a Jew to travel to Germany, five Quakers agreed to go instead and meet him in Berlin. Ben Greene, who was one of the five, accompanied Bertha Bracey to the meeting with the Home Secretary, Samuel Hoare, on 21 November 1938. ‘Greene testified to the plea of the German parents and their readiness to part with their children.’28
That very night, in the House of Commons, Samuel Hoare announced that the government had agreed to the admission of the refugee children using Ben Greene’s evidence, and the first party of 200 children arrived from Germany on 2 December 1938. Meanwhile, Ben Greene returned from a second visit to Germany and reported that ‘the Jewish suicide rate was now so heavy that “the Mainz town authorities have turned off the gas in every Jewish house”’.29
Bertha herself noted her efforts more modestly:
After the pogrom in November 1938, I went with Lord Samuel to the Home Secretary, Sir Samuel Hoare, and obtained permission to bring ten thousand ‘non-Aryan’ children to this country. When concentration camps were being opened up at the end of the European War, I went with Mr Leonard Montefiore to the War Office and persuaded them to put at our disposal 10 large bomber planes, which, with the bomb racks removed, enabled us to bring 300 children from Theresienstadt, Prague, to England.30
The UK and its government had no excuse, even in pre-war 1939, for claiming not to know what was happening in Europe. As early as 1936 a book detailing ‘the outlawing of half a million human beings: a collection of facts and documents relating to three years’ persecution of German Jews, derived chiefly from National Socialist sources, very carefully assembled by a group of investigators’, was published by Victor Gollancz. Its introduction was written by the Bishop of Durham, Hensley Henson. He concluded on 12 February 1936:
As one who has had rather special reasons for holding Germany in high regard, who has an unfeigned admiration for her intellectual achievements, who has often in the past visited with delight her historic cities, and recalled the wonders of her history, I cannot bring myself to believe that the persecution of minorities, and among them specially the Jews, which now stains the national name, can be more than a passing aberration. The publication of this book will, I think, hasten the return of sanity by making yet more vocal and insistent the protest of the civilised conscience itself, that protest which not even the most passionate nationalism can permanently resist or will finally resent.31
The Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs had published a Command Paper in 1939 which included several documents listing the horrors occurring in Germany. The introduction refers to the excuse provided by the German government when His Majesty’s Ambassador in Berlin made a complaint in 1933 about the ‘violence and brutality of the Nazis’. They claimed they regretted the incidents ‘but regarded them as unavoidable in the first ardour of revolutionary fervour’:
This plea cannot be put forward to excuse events that occurred five years after the advent to power of the National Socialist Party. It is evident from the published documents, which cover only the period from 1938 onwards, that neither the consolidation of the regime nor the passage of time have in any way mitigated its savagery.32
However, even this evidence failed to find overwhelming support. The Daily Express commented, ‘there is crime and cruelty among the citizens of every nation’, and the extreme right-wing weekly Truth hinted that it might all be ‘a Jewish invention’.33
After 1939 Bertha’s role changed and she dealt with those refugees that had arrived in the UK and were being interned as enemy aliens. Government policy changed following the fall of France, Belgium and Holland. There was greater fear of invasion and what was called ‘fifth column’ activity, which led to thousands being interned, and this included both men and women, some of whom were sick. This caused those refugees tremendous personal problems and the refugee bodies combined to create a Central Department for Interned Refugees (CDIR). Bertha Bracey became the chairman and dealt with different government departments to resolve these issues, such as ‘the unsuitability of ordinary prisons for internment, the possibility of children joining their mothers as aliens, the provision of married quarters, and the whole business of relief from internment’.34
The most important area was the Isle of Man where most aliens were interned – there was a maximum of 10,000 internees during the Second World War. Bertha visited the two women’s camps to see for herself the true situation. She f
ound there were only six members of staff dealing with hundreds of internees and suggested they should use volunteers as an interim measure. She also found that those released did not have the money for the journey back to the mainland, and the elderly and infirm, or those who spoke little English, needed help on arrival.
Bertha persuaded the CDIR to help out and this resulted in those with special needs receiving financial assistance. Bertha Bracey was a courageous woman who had an unerring instinct for what needed to be done. She had started her work in Europe as a young woman in the early 1920s: ‘Her main challenge was to encourage youth in exploring new attitudes towards international peace and personal responsibilities in the new democratic Weimar republic.’35 Her faith as a Quaker made her strong and one of her favourite phrases was ‘hold on tight’.
The phrase ‘hold on tight’ might be recalled as a mother’s behest to her child or a needed instruction in the early days of the motor car; but Bertha would urge it is also a reminder that there are times in our lives when we need to hold on tight to our faith. And, as we reflect on the dark times she lived through, we know that she spoke from the depths of experience.36
Her knowledge of Germany gave her great influence in the early days of Hitler’s regime. ‘Bertha was one of three or four British Friends who were able to exert pressure through eminent people in church and state both in Britain and Germany in order to secure the release of individuals in political custody.’ She was awarded the OBE in 1942 in recognition of her work for refugees, and she was generally recognised as having achieved much in creating the Germany Emergency Committee (GEC) as its secretary from April 1933. On 25 April a Case Committee was appointed, and it reported on 3 May that it had eighteen cases under review. By September 1939 it had 22,000.37
Her work with the GEC from April 1933 was summed up:
Bertha Bracey had borne the chief responsibility for building up the organisation and for directing its work. Her creative vision, her sympathy for the friendless and persecuted, which she invited many others to share, and her wide knowledge of the refugee problem had had an influence far beyond the confines of Friends House and Bloomsbury House, and had brought her the gratitude of large numbers of those she had helped.38
Towards the end of her long life – she was 95 when she died – she wrestled with Parkinson’s disease, and when it was particularly troublesome she referred to it light-heartedly as ‘Mr Parkinson’s visiting again’.39 Her family did not know a great deal about her doings. There is mention in family correspondence of Bertha going to Poland after the Nazi occupation and bringing out mothers and children. Her niece Alma has written:
Bertha was very reticent and never talked about her self-imposed commitments. This last episode – re Poland, cannot be verified I don’t think – it’s sort of word of mouth. Friends certainly backed her and her rescue team but it was all obviously hush hush and the family really knew nothing about her activities … A brave and far-sighted woman with remarkable organizing ability. She had high standards.40
She was an inspiration to many, even towards the end of her life. A letter sent to her, dated 1 April 1988, refers to the words of one of her carers in the nursing home: ‘She is wonderful, we are supposed to minister to her but she ministers to us. Whenever I feel a bit low a visit to Bertha bucks me up in no time.’41
‘Is there anything I can bring you?’ asked a visitor of hers in the nursing home during her last days. Bertha roused herself from a partial slumber to the alertness we remember so well. ‘Yes,’ she responded, ‘bring me glad tidings of great joy.’42
In July 2001 a sculpture representing the family was installed and dedicated in the courtyard of Friends House in London. It was sculpted by Naomi Blake, one of the victims of the Nazis saved by the Kindertransport. Its plaque reads:
To honour Bertha Bracey (1893–1989)
who gave practical leadership to Quakers in quietly rescuing and re-settling thousands of Nazi victims and lone children between 1933–1948
Charles Fawcett (1919–2008) was born in Virginia in the USA into a privileged family. He had a difficult start as the family home was burnt down five days after his birth and his mother died when he was 5, followed by his father two years later. He was therefore brought up as an Episcopalian by his mother’s sister – Aunt Lily Shumate – in Greenville, a small town in South Carolina. The family were originally Huguenots who arrived in Virginia in the 1660s. Consequently, he grew up as a Southern gentleman of the old school:
His romanticism, sense of honour, attitude to women, enormous charm, modesty, old-fashioned courtly manners, are all a product of the acceptable face of the old South. His accent remains that of the Virginia gentleman and he has sincerely subscribed to its rigid honour code all his life – the reverse of the narrow bigotry often attributed to the South.43
Charles, who lived in Chelsea for many years, told me he was brought up to help people and to be a Good Samaritan. He said his hometown was a place of just one religion, where although there was segregation, black people were well treated because there were no plantations. Charlie recalled that his aunt had two black servants who lived in the family home, and when he came back from school he went to see them before he saw his aunt. Everybody in the sleepy little town had the same ethics and he grew up knowing he had to do the right thing. The people of Greenville ‘were really good people who helped each other’.44
April Fawcett, Charles’ wife, discovered a letter from Charles’ mother, Helen Hortense. Helen had married late in life and had four children after the age of 40. She developed breast cancer and was treated in the Mayo Clinic in Baltimore. A month before she died she wrote to her sister Lily entrusting her with the upbringing of her children. In the poignant letter, dated 5 June 1922, she wrote: ‘I thank God that I can leave my babies with someone who cares for them and will love them and make them mind too. Please always make them obey you, dear, and when they are grown they will be glad to tell you of your having made them mind.’
I think poor Helen Hortense would have been astounded to learn what a wonderful job her sister Lily made of bringing up Charles. She would have been truly amazed to know how many people he helped during his long and colourful life. It has been suggested that his early experiences influenced the whole of his life:
It is not over fanciful to suggest that the pattern of his entire life – the quest for the most elegant and elevated of women, the immersion in the romance and glamour of Paris, Rome – as well as remote portions of the jungles of the Congo and the Amazon, was fashioned from memories of his unhappy childhood. Always responding to causes of the underdog, deliberately seeking out hardships and dangers – restless and adventurous, he treated the natives of the Sahara with the same courtesy that he showed to the members of the various royal families with whom he became close friends over the years – trusted and admired by one and all.45
Charles was a 22-year-old art student in Paris when the Germans invaded France. He had worked his way around Europe using his assorted talents to keep himself; apparently he received tips on his trumpet-playing from Louis Armstrong and learnt wrestling from a professional. He had joined the American Ambulance Corps in 1938; later on in the war his flatmate Bill (William Holland) told him a lot of wounded British troops were being sent to Germany in a few days. Bill was half-German, through his mother who was a German aristocrat, related to the German commander-in-chief of occupied France, which was how he knew what was happening. Bill and Charles ‘borrowed’ an ambulance from the Ambulance Corps garage, rescued the troops from their hospital and set off for free France. It is alleged that on leaving the hospital Charles told the POWs, ‘Gentlemen, consider yourselves liberated.’ A British voice shouted, ‘You’re a Yank.’ Charles responded, ‘Never confuse a Virginian with a Yankee.’46
After several adventures they ended up in Marseilles and Charlie remembered that he knew a Countess Lily Pastré, whose family home was just outside the city. She took the prisoners in but sent Charlie into town
where he met up with Varian Fry.47 Charlie’s countess had started an organisation called Pour que L’Esprit Vive, which still exists today. It was created during the economic and social crisis of the 1930s to help artists and intellectuals who were often living in precarious conditions. As the war and occupation progressed, she devoted her magnificent home and fortune to sheltering artistic exiles who were mostly Jewish. She protected the harpist Lily Laskine (1893–1988), the pianists Youra Guller (1895–1981) and Monique Haas (1909–87), and the Czech painter Rudolf Kundera (1911–2005) lived with her for three years. She also paid for medical care for the Romanian Jewish pianist Clara Haskil (1895–1960), and in 1942 helped her escape to Vevey in Switzerland. Since 1963, a prestigious piano prize in Clara Haskil’s name has been awarded every two years.48 It is said that she also housed the Spanish cellist Pablo Casals (1876–1973), who was a Catholic, and the famous black American dancer Josephine Baker, who found fame in France.49 After the war, Josephine was honoured by the French government with the highest Medal of the Resistance (with officier’s rosette) and made a Chevalier of the Legion d’Honneur for her work in the Resistance – which included smuggling secret messages written on her music sheets.50
Charlie says he did not know anything about Jews as a young man because he did not come across any until he was a young art student in Paris. One day Jewish students were involved in a fight, and to help them out Charlie kicked a table over. Some considerable time later he met them again, in Marseilles, and they told him about Varian Fry and his work with the refugees. Charlie became impressed with Fry’s work and joined his team of workers. He told Fry how shocked he had been at discovering German anti-Semitism. Whilst his story was not as dramatic as Fry’s experiences in Berlin in 1936, it obviously shocked him. He had been in a café where Jews had been drinking coffee. When they left, he saw two German officers point to the cups and say, ‘Take these away and sterilise them.’51
The Other Schindlers Page 3