“Recruit?”
Maximilian shrugged. “Poor choice of words. You know what I mean.” Then he turned and scampered after Globočnik.
“Over my dead body,” Eli said. “I will never work a minute for that scoundrel.”
The day’s exchange hung heavily on Jakob’s shoulders. For all of his adult life, he had run his business honestly and ethically, as had his father before him. Now it was Nazi-controlled and an instrument for building labor camps. He sighed. “Maximilian has no integrity, Eli, but our options are limited. For the time being, we will continue to operate the business as before. We will pray for better days.”
“Are we supposed to follow Maximilian’s orders? I cannot do that.”
“I doubt he’ll ever come around, except to drop off material requisitions or to collect his commissions.”
Eli’s jaw was set. “Papa, it’s time to get out. I mean leave Lublin. I’ve been talking to Esther, and we think things will only get worse. She wants to find a cottage somewhere in the countryside. Before they give us three hours to get out of our house, we think we should pack up and move out of Lublin altogether.”
“Where shall we go, Eli? A cottage in the country? How will we eat? How do we survive? And if we rely on provisions from some other occupied Polish city, how is that an improvement over what we have now? All of Poland is under occupation.”
“What if we all moved north to Lithuania or Latvia? The Kaplans moved to Lithuania.”
“The Kaplans have family in Kaunas. What is waiting for us in Lithuania, and what do we do when we get there? Do we have jobs, a business? How do we survive in Kaunas?”
“I will find work. There’s a large Jewish community in Kaunas.”
“Have you considered how you will make this journey to Kaunas, Eli? Certainly not on the roads. The Russian army crossed the Polish border a month ago and they are Germany’s ally. If you go north or east, you will run into them. No, son, as distasteful as it seems, it’s best if we carry on as before. As of right now, it is functionally still our brickyard. Maximilian cannot possibly run this business on his own. He needs us or he will fail, and you heard the ruthless Globočnik: failure is not an option. That is our leverage. We will use Maximilian as necessary to survive until things settle down.”
CHAPTER NINE
LUBLIN, POLAND
NOVEMBER 1939
WEEK 8 OF THE NAZI OCCUPATION
“Here,” Maximilian said as he handed a paper bag to Eli. “I have something for you.”
“What is this?” Eli said.
“Armbands,” Maximilian said flippantly. “I saved you a trip to city hall. There’s quite a line there now. In the bag are white armbands, one for each member of your family. Each band has a blue Jewish star, which has to be visible at all times. Whenever you go out, you must wear them.”
“For what reason?”
“The Nazis don’t give reasons; they give orders. If they catch you without the band, they’ll punish you. What’s the big deal, anyway? Wear the band; don’t cause any trouble. By the way, the Germans are charging Jews two zloty apiece for these armbands. I paid the bill for you when I picked them up. You’re welcome.”
“Who came up with this idea? Was it your buddy Globočnik?”
“Oh no, this order comes directly from Governor-General Hans Frank. He decreed that all Jews in Poland must wear the Star of David and all Jewish businesses must permanently display the star on the window.”
“For what purpose?”
Maximilian smirked. “I think you can figure it out. But be thankful that there will be no Star of David hanging over this brickyard, because it’s not a Jewish-owned business anymore, is it? Never underestimate the advantage of associating with Maximilian Poleski. You know, my mother always told me that we have royal blood. From the first Polish dynasty, no less. That’s why she named me Maximilian.”
“Oh, please.”
“Seriously. General Globočnik was impressed when I told him I had royal blood.”
Eli scoffed. “Let me bow deeply before you, your lordship. Then get the hell out of my brickyard.”
“My brickyard. We’ll need to change the Rosen and Sons sign. Repaint it ‘M. Poleski—Building and Construction Materials.’”
“Is that all? Can I get back to work?”
“Don’t be like that. I’m protecting your family. You still have jobs while many do not. In case you haven’t noticed, the SS is rounding up Jews, especially craftsmen and those with building skills, and sending them to Lipowa Street and other labor sites. You didn’t get rounded up, did you? Nobody in your family was dispatched to a work camp. You can thank me for that. Jewish houses in the nicer part of town are being confiscated and given over to SS officers. You, your father and your brother still have your homes. You could show a little gratitude.”
Eli did not hide his disdain. “Okay, Maximilian, I’m very, very grateful. Is that it?”
“Well, no it’s not. I have a couple more agenda items. Housekeeping items, they say. I need an office here at the brickyard. Louis doesn’t need his office; he’s rarely here. I’ll take that one.”
“Why on earth would you need an office? You don’t do any work.”
“How would it look if the owner of the brickyard didn’t even have an office? We must keep up appearances. And I want an office where I can conduct some of my private business.”
“What private business do you have, Maximilian?”
He smiled and wagged his finger back and forth. “Ah, that’s why they call it private. One more thing: I need to take possession of the financial books and records. Have them sent to my office at the city hall.”
“You have an office inside SS headquarters?”
Maximilian raised his eyebrows. “Yes, I do. I’m pretty important around here, in case you hadn’t noticed, and lucky for you that I am.”
“Why do you need our books and records? You have nothing to do with running our business.”
Maximilian smirked. “My business, Eli. My books and records. Don’t forget, it’s my company now. Be thankful that the Nazi command didn’t just give it over to some Berliner. You’d be out on your ass. I assured Herr Brigadeführer that I would personally keep an eye on the finances. He thinks we’re paying out too much in salaries.”
Eli’s face was turning red. He popped a finger on Maximilian’s chest. “You’re not touching my salary, my father’s salary or my brother’s salary, understood? Some of my foremen have been with us for years. You don’t reduce their salaries either. Understood?”
Maximilian took a step back. He spread his hands and smiled. “I don’t think there’s much I can do about that. With regard to the employees’ salaries, Globočnik knows he can get workers anytime for free. He’d just grab them off the street. As to your salaries, if General Globočnik wants to cut them, I’ll have to obey. I think you’d be smart to watch what you spend, because my sense is that he will cut you. He doesn’t like Jews making money in his city.”
“His city?”
“That’s what he says.”
“Well, there’s something you should consider, Mr. Fancy Brickyard Owner. If I don’t get paid, I don’t work. Are you going to run this brickyard by yourself? How will Herr Globočnik like that?”
“Don’t overvalue yourself, Eli. You’re not the only person in Poland who knows how to run a brickyard. I’ll get you what I can, but it won’t be that much.”
* * *
It was evening when Eli entered his home and laid the armbands on the table. “What are these?” Esther said angrily, as though she already knew the answer.
“Armbands. We are now required to wear them whenever we leave the house.”
“Why not just paint a target on our backs?” she said. “Then the Nazis won’t have any difficulty knowing which persons to kick or trip or push aside.”
“Esther…”
“Don’t Esther me. Have you seen what they do if you don’t move out of their way on the sidewalk
, or if you dare to look directly at them, as though your eyes will tarnish them? They’ll push you over or beat you. Even women!” With the back of her hand, she brushed the armbands off the table and onto the floor. “I don’t want their bands of hate on my dining room table.”
“It doesn’t matter, Essie. It’s a law and they’ll punish you if you don’t comply.”
“I told you before, Eli, first they will mark us to separate us from society, then they will collect us and then they will eliminate us.”
Eli reached for her and wrapped her up in his arms. “Essie, does it make sense to tear your hair out? It’s only an armband.”
She looked up into his eyes and said softly, “Oh, my husband, I’m afraid you don’t see. It’s an armband today. Tomorrow it’s a yoke.”
CHAPTER TEN
LUBLIN, POLAND
DECEMBER 1939
WEEK 10 OF THE NAZI OCCUPATION
Jakob Rosen called his son in from the brickyard. “Eli, there’s a delegation from a Catholic church in our office, and they’re demanding to talk to ownership directly. I don’t know anything about their account and Maximilian isn’t around. I’d like you to come in and help me.”
Three people were waiting when Eli entered the office. The spokesperson was a woman in a long brown coat with a tan scarf and a soft wool bowler. “I am Lucya Sikorska,” the woman said. “I am the lay business manager of the Church of Saint Peter the Apostle.” She gestured to her right, to a petite woman with a black-and-white cowl and a cloth coat over her habit. “May I introduce Sister Maria.” Then, pointing to an elderly man in a floor-length cassock, she said, “And this is Father Jaworski.”
Eli wiped his hands on a towel. “Please forgive my appearance,” he said. “I was out working in the brickyard. We’re short of help these days. How can we assist you?”
“As I’m sure you know, our church was badly damaged in the September bombings. The entire southwest corner was destroyed. Our roof suffered major damage. We have been waiting for our repairs. I think we’ve been more than patient, Mr. Rosen.”
Eli looked puzzled. “One moment, please.” He pulled the project book off the shelf and thumbed through. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Sikorska, I don’t see a work order.”
Her lips tightened, and she quickly glanced at her companions. She pulled a paper out of her purse and slapped it on the table. “This is a receipt for the down payment given to Mr. Poleski, your account executive.”
Eli sighed and picked up the paper. “Received of Saint Peter the Apostle, the sum of 12,500 zloty as a deposit for wall and roof repairs. Detailed estimate to follow.” It was signed “Maximilian Poleski, account manager for Rosen & Sons Construction Company.”
“I am very sorry, Mrs. Sikorska. The deposit and the work order do not appear to have been recorded.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t have a record of repairs to be made to your church. Or a 12,500 zloty deposit. Did Maximilian ever come back to the church after you gave him the deposit?”
She shook her head. “We haven’t seen him since October.”
The priest stepped forward. “Mr. Rosen, we are not a wealthy parish. That deposit was given to your agent in good faith after we pooled all our resources. We can’t even hold a mass at Saint Peter in its present condition because it’s not safe. How can you allow your account manager to take our money and…”
Eli held up his hand. “Whoa, wait a minute please, Father. I haven’t allowed anyone to take your money. I didn’t even know about it until you came in. But Mr. Poleski was working for us at the time, and we will honor the deposit. He wasn’t exactly a manager, but he was an authorized salesman, and we will assume full responsibility. When can I come out to examine the condition of the church?”
“I am there at all hours,” Father Jaworski said.
“I thought it wasn’t safe,” Eli said.
The priest shrugged. He had a beneficent smile. “It is my church and I must tend to my flock.”
Eli reached over to shake his hand. “I will be there tomorrow morning.”
The group left and Eli turned to his father. “Wait till I get my hands on Maximilian.”
* * *
The wind was blowing hard from the northwest, bringing arctic snow and freezing temperatures into Lublin. It whistled down the streets, across the walkways and through the broken walls of the Church of Saint Peter the Apostle. Lucya Sikorska and Father Jaworski stood in the vestibule in their winter coats to greet Eli and his construction foreman just before the noon hour. Just as she had described, the southwest corner of the building had suffered significant structural damage. The brick and masonry had been blasted loose. Plywood boards, placed over a wide cavity in the fractured wall, were all that separated the church’s interior from the harsh winter elements.
“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” Lucya said. In the cold interior of the church, her breath immediately condensed into a misty fog.
Eli jotted notes onto a pad, looked up and said, “I’m afraid so, Mrs. Sikorska.”
“Lucya, please.”
“Would you like to see the damage to the roof?” Father Jaworski asked.
Eli pointed to a grouping of buckets on the floor in the western transept. “Is that the only area?”
“We think so. It’s the only spot where we’ve observed snow and water coming in.”
“Do you mind if my construction foreman takes a walk around your church and makes some notes?”
“Please,” Father Jaworski said, extending his arm.
“Our church has been here almost two hundred years,” Lucya said. “It’s a solidly built church, but the bombs fell close by. We also lost some precious relics in the air raids.” She pointed to a ceramic statue of the Blessed Virgin lying on the floor. “She’s a beauty, over a hundred years old.” She sighed. “She fell from her platform and cracked across her midsection. You can see there are plaster chips lying all about. We’re trying to enlist the services of an experienced sculptor to put her back together. The statue of our patron saint was also damaged, but we think he’s beyond repair.”
Eli walked into a small chapel where the damaged statue lay on its side. “This is indeed a beautiful work of art,” he said.
Lucya smiled. “We feel the same way. The parishioners who regularly come to offer their prayers to her and seek her guidance miss her the most.”
“Have you found a sculptor to perform the repairs?”
She shook her head. “None that we could afford.”
Eli nodded. “I know one.”
The construction foreman returned to the room with a grim expression. “Eli, this western wall is in trouble. Load-bearing masonry has been destroyed. We would have to scaffold it from the outside and replace substantially all the brickwork in the southwest corner. Four men, six brick loads, plaster, wooden struts, four to six weeks, depending on the weather. You’re talking twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand zloty.”
Eli saw the color drain out of Lucya’s face. “Tomasz,” Eli said, “can we finish it in time for Christmas?”
The foreman threw up his hands. “That’s three and a half weeks, Eli. It’s impossible.”
“These are good people, Tomasz. I want their church open for Christmas. Can we get enough of the work done to make it safe and keep the weather out? Take the crew off the Strodza Crossing.”
“But, Mr. Rosen,” Lucya protested, “we cannot afford the repairs. It would be months, maybe years, before we…”
Eli waved his hand from side to side and interrupted. “We’ll work it out. Don’t worry. Let’s get it done, Tomasz.”
* * *
Later that afternoon, Maximilian appeared at the brickyard. “I’m here to pick up the financial books and records,” he said. “Globočnik’s orders, you know.”
“Guess where I was this morning, Maximilian?
He shrugged. “How on earth would I know?”
“I was at the Church of Saint Peter the
Apostle.”
Maximilian emitted a nervous laugh. “Ugh. That place is really busted up, isn’t it? I don’t know if they could ever get it right. Probably a waste of time to bother. They’d be better off tearing it down and building a brand new one. More modern and nicer.”
“Is that why you took a twelve thousand five hundred zloty deposit?”
“They told you that? Really? You believe them?”
Eli nodded and showed him the receipt.
“Oh, now I remember. I was going to turn the order in, but everything went crazy in October and I got appointed to my prestigious position at Nazi headquarters and that took up all my time and the whole thing about this crappy little church slipped my mind.”
“I see. So now, Maximilian, you may consider this a reminder. Rosen and Sons is going to repair the crappy little church. Turn over the deposit.”
Maximilian hung his head. “I can’t. It’s gone.”
“You spent their money?”
“I’ve had a lot of expenses with the German hierarchy. They expect stuff. You have to grease a palm every now and again.”
“You have to make good on that deposit, Maximilian. Go get the money and bring it in.”
“I can’t do it. There’s no way I can raise that kind of money. Listen, give me a break. I’m your ambassador with the SS. I’m watching out for your family. You’re still here doing business while others are getting sent away. You still have your houses. No one bothers your wife when other women are being snatched off the street. Let’s call it a prepayment for my protective services. You don’t want me to be your enemy; you want me to secure your future, and I can do it, I swear. It’s a nasty climate out there, I don’t have to tell you.”
“Get out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LUBLIN, POLAND
DECEMBER 1939
WEEK 12 OF THE NAZI OCCUPATION
Construction noise—the music of hammers, saws and tradesmen shouting to each other—greeted Eli as he entered the church. Sounds like progress, he thought. Christmas is coming.
Eli's Promise Page 4