The Young Hitler I Knew

by August Kubizek

  ‘I will sponsor the education of your three sons, Kubizek,’ he told me, ‘I don’t like it when young, gifted people are forced to go along the same track that we did. You know how it was for us in Vienna. After that, for me, came the worst times of all, after our paths had separated. That young talent goes under because of need must not be allowed to happen. If I can help personally, I will, even if it’s for your children, Kubizek!’

  I have to mention here that the Reich Chancellor actually did have his office foot the bill for the musical education of my three sons at the Linz Bruckner-Conservatoire and on his orders the sketches of my son Rudolf were assessed by a professor at the Munich Academy. I had reckoned on nothing more than a brief handshake and now we had sat talking together for over an hour. The Reich Chancellor rose. I thought that the conversation was now at an end and also stood, but he merely called for his adjutant and passed to him his instructions for my sons.

  Next he referred to the documents in my possession dating from our youth. I had to spread out on the table all the letters, postcards and sketches I had brought with me. He was astonished at the wealth of material I had. He asked how the documents had been preserved, and I explained about the wooden chest in my attic. He examined his Pöstlingberg water-colour very closely. There were a few skilful painters around who could make such good copies of his water-colours that it was impossible to tell the original, he said. They had a profitable business for it was always possible to find people to dupe. The best thing was never to let the original out of one’s hand.

  As an ‘official’ attempt had already been made to relieve me of the documentation I asked his opinion on the matter. ‘These documents are your personal property, Kubizek,’ he replied, ‘nobody can argue you out of them.’

  He now spoke about the book by Rabitsch. This person had attended Linz Realschule a few years after Hitler did and with the best intentions had written a book about the latter’s schooldays.* Hitler was very annoyed, however, because Rabitsch had not known him personally. ‘See here, I was not in agreement with this book from the very beginning. There is only one person who can write about my youth, who really knew me, and that person is yourself, Kubizek.’ Summoning his adjutant he said, ‘Make a note of what I said.’ At that he took my hand once more. ‘You see, Kubizek, how necessary it is that we speak regularly. As and when it becomes possible, I will call you again.’ The meeting was ended, and in a daze I left the hotel.

  From then the waters of my placid, withdrawn existence were flurried and I was to discover that it was not necessarily a good thing to have been the friend of a national leader in his youth. Although I had scarcely mentioned it to anybody previously, and only rarely spoke of it subsequently, I soon got to see the shadowy side of this youthful friendship. I had had a foretaste of what awaited me in March 1938. Austria had only just been annexed to the German Reich. A car drew up outside my Eferding home and three SS men got out. They had come all the way from Berlin to see me. On the orders of the Führer they were confiscating all the documents in my possession dating from the time of the Führer’s youth so that they could be stored safely in a vault at the Reich Chancellery. Luckily I was not fooled. Hitler was not involved, since at the time of the proposed seizure he had no knowledge of the existence of this material. It was probably the independent decision of some Party office or other which had come across my name. I denied all knowledge of any such memorabilia to the three SS men. I suppose they thought Austrians were quite gullible people, and their police-like appearance should have settled the matter, but they failed to make the desired impression on me. The amazing thing was that this intractable civilian was not even a Party member. They must have thought to themselves as they drove away empty-handed: what an old fogey for the Führer to have had for a friend when he was young.

  I had done well to stand my ground and resist this first attack. All future efforts would be easy to ward off, for I had Hitler’s personal guarantee that the material was my personal property. The next attempt by the Party involved pulling rank on me. Often when with his close entourage, Hitler would talk of his childhood, and my name would crop up regularly. ‘Ask Gustl!’ was his stock answer to all questions about this period. Thus, without a big thing being made of it, the people in his close circle became aware of a man living in Austria who knew all about Hitler’s youth. Fortunately for them as they saw it, this ‘Gustl’, who had been more or less out of reach until March 1938, had become a German citizen when Austria was annexed, and was thus now very much in reach.

  Reich Minister Goebbels sent a very nice young man to see me, Karl Cerff, whose rank and official position I no longer remember. Cerff stated that a biography of the Führer was being planned for which they wanted me to write the 1904–8 chapters. When the time was ripe, I would be summoned to Berlin where, supported by recognised experts in the field, I would be able to carry out the task. Meanwhile, perhaps I might like to prepare just a detailed synopsis of my recollections. I informed the caller that I had no time available for such an editorial mission because, since the annexation, we civil servants were simply inundated with work. He probably saw that I was wriggling out of giving any undertaking for the future and was clearly amused by my verbal antics. In conclusion he cautioned me against underestimating ‘my unique responsibility to history’ as he put it. If I was interested, there would be no problem in his arranging leave of absence for me, but I turned this down decisively. He took his leave hoping to see me again at ‘a better time’, but as the future only brought ‘a worse time’, Karl Cerff never returned. All the same, I have to say that he had carried out his awkward mission on behalf of the Propaganda Ministry with understanding and grace.

  Much less charming was the contact from Martin Bormann, who apparently felt himself solely competent with regard to my knowledge and watched anxiously to ensure that nobody else got in first. It was intended to be inferred from his memoranda and letters that he had the licence for Hitler’s biography and nobody could say or write anything about it without his previous perusal of the script and approval. After the failure of his attempt in March 1938 to grab the material in my possession for the Party Chancellery – ‘the place where it belongs’ – I had received the strictest orders never to allow these papers out of my hand, not even to allow another to see them without previous authorisation. On the latter point he needed to have no worries, for such was my intention. Next came an order from Bormann to set down at once in writing my reminiscences of my youthful friendship with Adolf Hitler and supply him with the synopsis. I replied that I would need to discuss the matter with Hitler beforehand. This method was strikingly successful, and whenever I was pressurised by any powerful gentlemen afterwards, I would say, ‘Forgive me, please, but I would like to discuss your suggestion first with the Reich Chancellor personally. What was your esteemed name again?’ The mood would then ameliorate amazingly, and I would be treated with kid gloves.

  On the other hand I remember with great pleasure my meeting with Rudolf Hess. He was visiting Linz and asked me to call on him. A car was sent to bring me to the Bergbahnhotel on the Pöstlingberg. Reich Minister Hess greeted me effusively. ‘So you are Kubizek!’ he cried, beaming with joy, ‘the Führer has told me so much about you!’ I sensed at once that this friendliness was honest and came from the heart, and it was through Hess that I had a certain suspicion confirmed: the closer a person stood in his relationship to Hitler, the more that person knew about me. Rudolf Hess and Frau Winifred Wagner were the best informed about Hitler’s early years, and therefore about myself.

  The minister invited me to dine on the wonderful hotel terrace. Afterwards he made me relate in detail all my experiences, throwing in many questions and observations to help me along. I had the impression that Rudolf Hess, from the human point of view, was closer to Hitler than most of the others, and that pleased me very much. Even the other gentlemen at table joined in the lively, open conversation, the attitude being quite different from that of the usual Pa
rty Chancellery officials.

  I had to point out to the Reich minister all the significant spots on the Linz city skyline from this wonderful high point. There behind the green hill on which the Pulverturm stood was the Leonding suburb with the path that Hitler took daily on his way to Realschule: there was the Humboldtstrasse, where Frau Hitler lived after her husband’s death, much nearer and below us was Urfahr with the Blütengasse and other important locations for my friend.

  Hess’s simplicity, which differed so markedly from the conduct of other, less significant political personalities, left a great impression on me. My only regret was that he must have been ill, for he looked it.

  Meanwhile I had become known in Austria. Previously nothing had been known of a friend of Adolf Hitler’s youth from Upper Austria, a circumstance which had been my good fortune for many years. Now I had been discovered. I was not a Party member, something which many could not understand for, as they reasoned it, Hitler’s friend ought to have Party card No. 2. I had been a very doubtful adherent of my friend in political matters not only because I rejected his political outlook but also because I had no interest in politics and did not understand it.

  It was only natural that I was soon roped in as an intermediary to present pleas in high places. I helped willingly although I had no illusions about the weight I carried. ‘A friend of Adolf Hitler in his youth’ had no brief to intervene in grand affairs and when I failed to get through to Hitler personally with a plea I would be informed, pleasantly but firmly, that this or that affair was not within my competence. As I expected, the planned visit of Hitler to Eferding was never made.

  Suddenly, completely unexpectedly, my rather resigned mood was shattered by the arrival of a registered letter written on the finest vellum from the Reich Chancellery. It was to lead to the greatest joy in my life. I received the invitation of the Reich Chancellor to participate in the Wagner Festival at Bayreuth: I should present myself on Tuesday 25 July 1939 at Haus Wahnfried, where Hitler’s housekeeper, Herr Kannenberg, would attend to me.

  What I had scarcely dared dream in my lifetime was now to become a reality. I cannot describe my happiness in words. Ever since I could remember it had been my ambition to make the pilgrimage to Bayreuth and experience there the performance of the master’s musical dramas, but I was not wealthy and my modest income did not extend to such an adventure.

  The train passed through Passau, Regensburg and Nuremberg. As I stepped from the carriage at Bayreuth and glimpsed for the first time the opera house on the hill, I thought I would die of joy. Herr Kannenberg received me in an exceedingly friendly manner and introduced me to the Moschenbach family at Linzstrasse 10, in a beautiful quarter of town, where I would lodge. I reported for the performance punctually. The 1939 festival opened with Die fliegende Holländer and closed on 2 August 1939 with Götterdämmerung. I sat through every performance. After packing my bags I went to see Herr Kannenberg to thank him for his kindness. ‘Must you go home straight away?’ he enquired with a smile, ‘it might be good if you stayed over one more day’ I understood what he was suggesting and remained in Bayreuth until 3 August.

  At two o’clock that afternoon an SS officer came to my room to fetch me to Haus Wahnfried. From the entrance, Obergruppenführer Julius Schaub led me into a large hall where many people were gathered, most of whom I had either met in Linz or recognised from newspaper photos. Frau Winifred Wagner was in animated conversation with Reich Minister Hess; Obergruppenführer Bruckner stood talking with Herr von Neurath and a number of generals. It struck me suddenly how many military men were present. I could sense the tension in the air. The talk was about Poland and I got the drift about an armed conflict in the offing.

  In this highly charged atmosphere, similar to Hotel Weinzinger, I felt a stranger, out of my element. I experienced a kind of stage-fright. Probably the Reich Chancellor would say just a few kind words before he returned to Berlin, I thought. At the far end of the hall was a pair of large double doors. The adjutant opened them both and stood aside. Schaub escorted me inside and reported, ‘Mein Führer! Herr Kubizek is here!’ At that he retired and shut the doors behind him. I was alone with the Reich Chancellor.

  It was a joyful reunion of two old friends. Nothing about him spoke of the dreadful responsibility he carried on his shoulders. Here he was simply a guest of Frau Wagner, and one could feel that wonderful atmosphere which Bayreuth generates. He took my right hand in both of his and welcomed me. His greeting in such a hallowed location moved me so deeply that words failed me, and I was glad when he said, ‘Let’s sit, shall we?’

  After discussing my impressions of Bayreuth I had regained my composure somewhat and we talked about old times. This brought us to the Wagner performances at Vienna and Linz, and he told me of his plans to make the works of Richard Wagner available to as many sections of the German people as possible. I knew these plans from long ago; in principle they had occupied his thoughts for almost thirty-five years but were now no longer dreams. Some 6,000 people who had never been in a position to visit the Bayreuth Festival had done so this year thanks to an excellent organisation for guests, he said. I remarked that I was numbered amongst them. With a laugh he replied – and I remember his words exactly – ‘Now I have you as a witness here in Bayreuth, Kubizek, for you were the only one there when I, a poor unknown, unveiled these plans for the first time. I remember you asked me how these plans could be realised. Now you see how it was done.’ Then he went on to explain what he had achieved so far for Bayreuth and what he proposed for the future, just as though he had a responsibility to account for it to me.

  In my pocket I had a pack of postcards bearing his image. In Eferding and Linz many people would give anything to own such a postcard autographed by Hitler personally. I hesitated a while before making the banal request. Hitler sat at the table, took the postcards and, while he searched for his reading glasses I passed him my fountain pen. He began signing, and I dried the ink with the blotting-weight. Halfway through the task he looked up suddenly and said with a smile, ‘It’s obvious you are a clerk, Kubizek. What I can’t understand is how you can put up with it. In your shoes I would have bolted long ago. Why didn’t you come to me earlier?’

  After you wrote to me on 4 August 1933 saying that you wanted to revive our common memories only after the time of your hardest struggle was done with, I decided to wait until then. In any case, before 1938, as an Austrian civil servant, I would have required a passport to come to Germany. They would certainly not have granted it once they knew the purpose of my visit.

  Hitler laughed heartily. ‘Yes, politically you were always a child.’ I had expected him to use another word and grinned upon seeing that the ‘turkey’ of the Stumpergasse had become ‘a child’. The Reich Chancellor made the postcards into a pack, handed them to me and rose. I thought the visit was at an end, but he said, ‘Kommen Sie’, and, opening the door which led into the garden, bid me follow him down the stone steps. Neat pathways brought us to a tall, hand-wrought iron gate which he opened. Beyond lay a flower garden. Deciduous trees formed a great arch below which everything was in semi-darkness. A few steps over the gravel path and we stood before the grave of Richard Wagner.

  Hitler took my hand in both of his. I felt how moved he was. Ivy climbed around the granite slabs covering the remains of the master and his spouse. There was a stillness about the place; nobody disturbed the sacred peace. Then Hitler said: ‘I am happy that we meet again at this place, which was always the holiest for us both.’

  We returned to Haus Wahnfried. Wieland, Frau Wagner’s son, and the grandson of the master, was waiting for us at the garden entrance with a ring of keys. He unlocked the individual rooms and Hitler gave me a guided tour. I was introduced to Frau Wagner and, as the conversation turned to our youthful enthusiasm for Wagner’s music, I reminded Hitler of that memorable Rienzi performance at Linz in 1905. He related the events including the strange nocturnal experience and concluded with the unforgettable words, ‘In
that hour it began!’

  As Obersalzberg was not a favourable venue for our reunions, Hitler gave instructions that I should always be invited to attend Bayreuth when he did. ‘I would like to have you always around me,’ he said, then waved to me from the garden gate as I left.

  When the tickets for the first cycle of the 1940 Wagner season arrived on 8 July that year, I felt rather guilty about going because of the pressure of work I had. I justified the trip by telling myself that the Führer had ordered it. In contrast to 1939 only Die fliegende Holländer and the Ring were performed. Frau Wagner invited me to share her box where she informed me that Hitler might come for Götterdämmerung. Later she confirmed that he would be flying down from his field headquarters and would return as soon as it concluded. ‘He asked me at once if you were here, Herr Kubizek. He would like to see you in the interval,’ she said.

  During the second act on 23 July 1940, Wolfgang Wagner, her second son, hurried up and asked me to follow him. We went to the lounge where about twenty people were gathered, speaking in excited tones. Hitler’s personal adjutant had reported my arrival, and Hitler appeared wearing uniform – a field-grey jacket as opposed to the civilian clothes he wore in 1939 – and greeted me as usual by extending both hands. He was tanned and looked healthy. He seemed even more pleased to see me than before. Guiding me to the long wall of the room, we stood alone, the guests continuing their private conversations. ‘This performance is nowadays the only one I can attend,’ he said. ‘There is nothing else for it; it is the war.’ With a growling undertone he added, ‘This war will set us back many years in our building programme. It is a tragedy. I did not become Chancellor of the Greater German Reich to fight wars.’ I was surprised that he spoke in that vein after his great military successes in Poland and France. Perhaps he saw in my countenance the unmistakable signs of age and realised that time was not leaving him untouched.