Hitler's Spy Princess

by Martha Schad

  So it was that on 11 December Stephanie, under the assumed name of Mrs Maria Waldenburg, boarded the SS Veendam at Southampton with her mother, and reached New York eleven days later. The American journalist Helen Worden, who wrote for the New York World-Telegram and knew the princess, was on the quayside and described her arrival: ‘Her auburn hair was combed straight back. She wore a silver-fox turban with a provocative pink rose perched on it, a three-quarter length silver-fox coat, a black dress of silk jersey (an Alix model), and black kid Perugia sandals with sky-blue platform soles. Gorgeous diamond ear-clips were fastened on her small, pretty ears, and a scintillating diamond clip lightened her dark dress.’

  This elegant outfit and extremely high-heeled shoes, not to mention the falsification of her age – she claimed she was six years younger than she was – certainly did not deceive the immigration official. He recognised her because, ever since Wiedemann’s arrival, the FBI had put out instructions that Princess Hohenlohe was to be kept under observation. She was only carrying a visitor’s visa, but the fact that she was travelling with 106 pieces of luggage did not suggest that she intended to leave the USA again in the near future. Not only was the FBI notified of her arrival; so were the leading newspapers.

  Any number of press people immediately took an interest in Stephanie. She and her mother had booked a suite at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel. A mob of photographers descended on the princess and wanted to get pictures of her in her rooms. In interviews in the hotel lobby Stephanie announced that she had left Britain in order to write her memoirs in peace and quiet, at the request of her literary agents Curtis Brown & Co.

  In 1976, when Brown himself was asked what he recalled about the princess, he well remembered this lady who had ‘a great deal of charm. Like everyone who left Germany at that time, she wanted to write a book. About scandal among the top Nazis, no doubt … You ask whether money was discussed? She talked of little else!’

  The first call she made on arrival in New York was to her lover in San Francisco, Fritz Wiedemann, who wanted to cross the continent to see her straight away. However, she preferred not to be seen so soon with a well-known Nazi.

  On the afternoon of Christmas Day, Stephanie and her mother moved to the quieter but no less prestigious Plaza hotel, where she took a smaller room, with no telephone; but the press soon turned up there too.

  Very soon after her arrival, Stephanie received a letter from Harry Bull, the publisher of Town & Country magazine. He enquired whether she, as a ‘celebrity’, could write a series of articles for his international readership. One of the articles was to be entitled ‘The Intelligence of Adolf Hitler’. Harry Bull wanted to know whether the Führer always relied on his intuition, or was only guided by ‘cold’ logic. Did he possess anything that could be described as a sense of humour? Was he the type of man who thinks in a calculating, businesslike way? Why did he spend so much time in Berchtesgaden and give the government and foreign envoys the bother of travelling to the Bavarian Alps with their concerns? Then he was also interested in Stephanie’s prediction of the length and outcome of the present war. However, the princess was unable to summon up the enthusiasm to write these articles.

  Since Stephanie was unwilling to give endless interviews, the pressure from reporters became ever more burdensome, and she hoped the interest in her would soon die down. But Alan Collins, who ran the New York office of the Curtis Brown literary agency, wrote to her on 12 January 1940: ‘It’s not enough for your only answer to be always: when is this ever going to stop? It will only stop when the newspapers, who want an interview, at least have a chance to see you. I know this is tiresome – but it’s just the price you pay for being famous.’

  Three days later, on 15 January 1940, the following internal memorandum was sent to the editor of Town & Country, a Hearst magazine, by its publisher, Harry Bull:

  The point of the Princess Stefi story is that since she says our material is totally erroneous and gives a false impression of her, she should tell the true story herself.

  She says that up to 1932 she was a private citizen and cannot understand why she has become so celebrated and misunderstood. In order to clear herself, she should start with a little sketch of her youth, marriage, early private life, and then her connection with Lord Rothermere and the political situation which brought her into prominence.

  If Princess Stefi was photographed ten thousand miles from where she really was, she can explain this; she could point out that she had not been in Czechoslovakia for some ten years, but that the newspapers had conceived some fantastic legend, and there seemed no way to stop it.

  While everyone wondered what was going on when she lived at Leopoldskron, the princess says she was trying to save things – furniture, etc. – for Reinhardt, and that she did many kind things for emigrés through her connections.

  The Hungarian to-do was something on which she worked at Rothermere’s directions, and she did the same in bringing him together with Hitler in Berlin – or did she have no association with this meeting?

  In other words she will have to go a little bit into some of the legend in order to explain that it is not true, and where she was.

  All we would really like is a straightforward sketch of her life and the true story of the activities that brought her so much uncalled-for publicity. She is obviously a misunderstood woman and that should be the key to the story. I should think 3,000 words would be adequate …

  If she would like, we could get Harry de Pauer to help her put the material into shape, or we could send over Rosamund Frost, who speaks excellent German, and would do an editorial job on it from the viewpoint of the Town & Country office.

  Harry Bull’s next step was to explain to Stephanie that the ‘twist about the misunderstood woman’ – since that was supposedly how she saw herself – could be effectively worked up by the magazine. Furthermore, everything that appeared about her in Town & Country would hopefully stoke up demand for her forthcoming memoirs.

  On 22 January 1940 even that highly respected newspaper, the New York Times, stooped to publishing a detailed article under the headline ‘Princess plays role in Nazi diplomacy’. Referring to ‘secret preparations’ for the military invasion and dismemberment of Czechoslovakia, in which Stephanie was said to be involved, the article went on: ‘The Princess is without doubt the star among a whole group of female members of the former German aristocracy, who have been recruited by Hitler for a wide variety of operations, many of a secret nature. They have been acting as political spies, propaganda hostesses, social butterflies and ladies of mystery.’

  The anonymous writer generously conceded that only a few women were fitted for such activities. But Stephanie had all the qualifications. She was thoroughly familiar with the ways of the world and was fluent in several languages. Her most outstanding ability was that of coaxing secrets out of people while diverting all suspicion away from herself. The key sentence ran: ‘On orders from the Nazi party, Princess Hohenlohe has placed the heads of Lords, Counts, and other highly placed personages at the feet of Hitler.’

  Always with an eye to her as yet unwritten memoirs, Stephanie was anxious to become acquainted with Sinclair Lewis, one of the most important American novelists of the day. In 1930 he was the first American to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature, and since 1928 had been married to Dorothy Thompson, a leading American journalist, whom Stephanie had already met in England. She also hoped to use the actress Marion Davies, whom she had met in Germany, as a way of getting access to her lover, the newspaper magnate, William Randolph Hearst. Stephanie even tried to get in touch with two of the most prominent anti-Nazi emigrés from Germany, Marlene Dietrich and Erich Maria Remarque, author of the anti-war novel All Quiet on the Western Front. However, both of them refused since they knew all about Stephanie’s strong links with National Socialism. Later, when she met Charlie Chaplin, she expressed surprising enthusiasm for his film satire on Hitler, The Great Dictator, which was premiered in New York on 15 October 19
40.

  Curtis Brown’s man in New York, Alan Collins, gave the princess precise instructions on how best to approach the material she had gathered for her memoirs. She was neither to play up nor play down her own part in events, but ‘concentrate on what you saw and your reactions thereto’. More important than the mere narration of events would be ‘your judgement as to what made people act the way they did’.

  She was to have a ghost-writer, Rudolf Kommer, the former agent of the theatre director Max Reinhardt, who had quit Hitler’s Germany in May 1940 and now, like Stephanie, was living in a New York hotel.1 At a time when German armies were sweeping across Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg, Kommer and Stephanie had lengthy discussions about the political situation in Europe. In the middle of May, after one of these conversations, Kommer put his thoughts into a letter:

  Dear Princess,

  Our conversation yesterday has given me much to think about and I am sure you will not mind if I set out my views again.

  There are moments when opinions can and must change profoundly. The invasion of Holland is just such a moment in world history, and here in the United States you can see by the day, no, by the hour, what a complete turnaround is happening. Yesterday America’s entry into the war was an entirely taboo subject – today it is already under discussion. Overnight it can become a reality.

  Anyone who does not believe in a German victory, i.e. in the total collapse of Europe, and who has the fate of the German people at heart, must somehow take a stand today. It is wrong to think that men like Rauschning2 and Thyssen3 are not listened to …

  If the crazy and criminal plans for reducing each other to rubble are to be foiled where Germany is concerned4 – and this seems to be the critical problem for Europe in the next few years – then Germany must emerge from the war intact. However, this is only possible if a sensible end is put to the war, from the German side, before it ends in horror. This means that we cannot just watch with our arms folded until Nazi Germany is annihilated, or it has annihilated the West; we must somehow get rid of this total insanity and apply common sense and humanity again. Whether this can or will happen, I don’t know. What we need are true patriots in Germany, who can win the trust of the German people, and true German patriots outside Germany who can win the trust of Germany’s present opponents. These two groups must be in communication with each other. Is this feasible? I don’t know. At all events, men like Bruening,5 Rauschning and Thyssen will be the principle assets in the regeneration of Germany.

  It was for this reason alone that I made the case yesterday at such wearisome length for nailing one’s colours to the mast. Whether this is done publicly with éclat, or quietly, but with overwhelming conviction, in private – makes no difference. If the future Germany is not to arise under another dictator, if that Germany, which even today under the eyes of the Nazis exists in some inchoate and unrecognized form, is to spring into life neither stunted nor disadvantaged, then its diplomatic representatives, so to speak, must today place their credentials before the world. But in order to win its trust, we must somehow show our colours. The day will come when it is too late to do this.

  Today it is a painful question of honour, whether one is for or against the Monster – and questions of honour do not wait long for an answer.

  Perhaps, my dear Princess, you can now better understand why I pressed you so strongly. There are still a few idiots who misunderstand you. Admittedly – you can’t hang an ‘anti-Hitler’ placard round your neck. But you know exactly who this is all about. The world is ablaze and neutrality is something absolutely unrealistic. Those who are lukewarm will be damned whatever happens. Show your true colours – that is the watchword!

  With very best wishes, in all devotion

  Yours

  Rudolf K. Kommer

  While the princess devoted herself intensively to marketing her memoirs, and had still not seen her beloved Fritz, he himself had become truly smitten by another ‘lady spy’. In San Francisco, the British Consul-General, P.D. Butler, had learned of a claim by American military intelligence (G-2) that they were ‘in possession of evidence that Wiedemann and a Baroness Reznicek are leaders of an alleged conspiracy, the purpose of which is to overthrow the present German government and arrange for Wiedemann’s return to Germany, in order to set up a new regime’. The lady in question was a journalist, Baroness Felicitas von Reznicek, who was suspected of various undercover activities. She had joined the Nazi Party in May 1933, soon after Hitler seized power.

  Wiedemann and the baroness, fourteen years his junior, had met and fallen in love at a cocktail-party in San Francisco. Since Wiedemann had been dumped by Hitler, it seems that Felicitas von Reznicek was working on a way to enable him to jump across to the other side. The British ambassador in Washington, Lord Lothian, was informed that the baroness had an interesting proposition for the British government, namely that Wiedemann was seeking ‘asylum in Britain’ and was willing to co-operate immediately and in every way with the British government. But from the embassy there was no reaction whatsoever to Wiedemann’s offer.

  In February 1940 Baroness Reznicek was unexpectedly ordered ‘home to the Reich’. Which authority had previously despatched the journalist to San Francisco is not at all clear. Wiedemann claimed that she was not from the Foreign Ministry but from one of the other ‘departments’. Felicitas von Reznicek kept on delaying her departure from California, because she did not want to be separated from Wiedemann. In May she finally left the country on a Japanese ship. She was accompanied by Wiedemann’s daughter, who had been entrusted to the baroness for the long journey back to Berlin, via Japan, China and the Trans-Siberian railway.

  We must assume that Stephanie knew nothing about her lover’s liaison and that the baroness had left the field clear for her, before Stephanie finally reached San Francisco in late March. Wiedemann had even hoped she might arrive sooner, as his letter of 3 March 1940 shows:

  I was pretty disappointed that you didn’t come this weekend. It would have been so lovely, and now we must put it off for at least a week, as I have a lot to do in the next few days.

  As regards your book and your questions, I am in complete agreement. Your questions, especially, are very clearly formulated. But before we do any more work on this, we must talk about it first. You must surely realise that the whole world will know you have certain information that you can only have obtained through me. You must, after all, think of my position. Several books have already been published, which deal with exactly the same subject; so readers will only be interested in something extraordinarily sensational. Perhaps we could promote you as ‘the first woman to write a book about … [Hitler]’ But it has to be more than sensationalism. You have too good a name for that kind of thing. In short, we have to talk about all this. Writing letters can lead to too many misunderstandings.

  If those reporters make it too difficult for you to come here by car (and I’m almost convinced that’s true), then you could come by train. You ought to take a sleeper and then you’d arrive here in the morning. If you’re not among the very first passengers off the train, and if Mirle [Wiedemann’s daughter, Anne-Marie] picks you up, I can’t imagine there would be any complications. It’s not so easy for me to get to LA as it’s not in my area. And if I’m caught outside my patch, I can be fired on the spot. And you can imagine that my dear boss [Ribbentrop] would take great delight in doing that. So come here soon!

  All my love

  F.

  It was in the romantic holiday resort of Carmel on the Pacific coast, 90 miles south of San Francisco, that Fritz and Stephanie fell into each other’s arms, almost a year after Hitler had imposed this separation on them. Wiedemann wanted to please her and handed her a 25-page manuscript containing his own thoughts and notes for the chapter in her planned memoirs, to be titled ‘Hitler through a woman’s eyes’. He had even gone to the trouble of writing a foreword for Stephanie’s book. It goes without saying that Wiedemann was the princess’s best source
for the intimate details of Hitler’s life.

  From that moment on, the Austrian woman and her Bavarian lover were under observation, wherever they went and literally round the clock. It started with a nocturnal rendezvous in the General Grant National Park. FBI agents submitted exhaustive reports, in words and pictures, to their chief, J. Edgar Hoover, who recorded even the most trivial detail for posterity. After her first meeting with Wiedemann – having put her mother and son into a small hotel in San Mateo – Stephanie flew to Philadelphia to offer her manuscript to friends, for publication in local newspapers. On 28 May she returned to California. She landed at Burbank, outside Los Angeles, where Hoover’s FBI spooks were waiting for her.

  From Burbank she took another plane north to Fresno and booked into a hotel under the name of ‘Mrs Moll’. Before going up to her room, no. 624, she asked at the reception desk if there was any post for her. Soon after that she received a phone-call, which was made from a public call-box. The people listening in to the call only understood the words ‘Hello, darling’, since the rest of the conversation was in German. But they were able to ‘decipher’ one phrase: ‘Restaurant Omar Khayyam’. ‘Mrs Moll’ and Fritz Wiedemann then met there and lunched apparently undisturbed, little knowing that meanwhile the princess’s hotel room was being thoroughly searched by the FBI.

  After their meal, the princess checked out of the hotel and drove with Wiedemann in a blue 1940 Chevrolet convertible, east along Highway 180, towards the General Grant National Park. As was customary, at the entrance to the park they had to sign a visitors’ book. The entry read: ‘Fritz Wiedemann, Consul-General in San Francisco.’ After a brief tour of this park, the couple drove on to the Sequoia National Park, where at 5.30 p.m. they arrived in Kaweah Camp. There they rented a chalet as ‘Mr and Mrs Fred Winter’ from San Francisco.