The Gestapo and German Society: Enforcing Racial Policy 1933-1945 (32 page)

Some less glaring non-compliance with the letter of the law was of a symbolic kind. In mid-September 1939 Wilhelm Roth, a soldier leaving Theinfeld for the army, was denounced because he shook the hand of a Jewish man known to him. As the coded language of the day put it, 'the behaviour of Roth raised general anger in Theinfeld' and the matter was reported to the gendarme in nearby Kleinwenkheim. Passed on to the Gestapo, the matter was not pursued because Roth's troop was leaving for action.
39 An old kapellmeister from Nuremberg, Markus Sprattler, turned up in the files for having played a composition by Mendelssohn, using a false name for the composer. It was forbidden to play such' Jewish music'. The performance was denounced in a letter of 1 g September 1940 to the Sturmer, and passed on to the police for investigation. The 66-year-old Sprattler could not be brought in for questioning as he had joined an artist troup with the army.40
Other cases also suggest that the Gestapo dutifully read the Sturmer and followed up letters to the editor, signed or not, as bona-fide denunciations.

Retired train-engineer Ernst Schmidt moved from Berlin to rural Bavaria, where he lived in Kleinlangheim; he was reported to the Sturmer in October 1937 because he had had social contacts with a Jewish woman and dined with her in a restaurant. Asked by the local mayor, a police official, about the report, Schmidt allegedly said, 'They can't take my pension away from me!' The police report also noted that Herr Schmidt continued to greet everyone with 'God be praised!' instead of 'Heil Hitler!'-his political views 'could well be imagined already from that'. Schmidt replied, 'I learnt in school how to greet people, and that's why I do it.'41

A sister (born 1878) of the distinguished Wi rzburg Bishop Matthias Ehren
fried had learnt in November 1940 that an elderly Jewish woman, a former neighbour from Eichstatt, was sick, and therefore paid a visit, bringing some eggs as a present. To the Gestapo, informed by persons unknown, this was a serious matter, and a warning was issued.41
That the anti-Semitism of the regime would be enforced with such scrupulousness was already well known by this date, but in the case of such 'distinguished' people knowledge of the incident would obviously spread in a Catholic city like Wiirzburg; the police action must have underlined their determination to enforce the rules. Other political opponents of Nazism, such as members of the SPD, were especially easy to keep track of with the help of co-operation from the population at large, and if they had anything to do with the Jews-some of whom were old acquaintances in the SPD-they were particularly vulnerable. In spite of the peril, however, at least some contacts seem to have been maintained.43

Georg Kron, a fanatically anti-Semitic Nazi in Bad Neustadt, tried, in the course of the 'action' in that town during the 'night of broken glass', to square matters with Jolana Krause (born 1879), a woman known locally as a 'friend to the Jews'. His search of Krause's apartment for hidden Jews was unsuccessful. She subsequently had him charged with breaking and entering.44
That was a symbolic gesture, though a courageous one. The dentist Dr Friedrich Ilbert, from Urspringen, got into very serious trouble in May 1941 when he and a Jewish friend he had known since 1924 were denounced by an unknown person; apparently some 'suspicious' pictures were being taken. Dr Ilbert said he had merely greeted his old friend in the street, and that their friendship was reduced to such formalities. However, a camera was confiscated, and when pictures were developed which showed there was a 'crime' involved (perhaps homosexuality) he was sent to Dachau, initially for four months.4'

When the transports began rolling to the east, civilians could not at first be sure of the destinations or fate of those on them. But while even people directly affected, Jews and those close to them, did not know the details, most people could hardly be unaware that the Jews sent east had a very uncertain future. Much of the collecting and shipping of Jews took place in the public view. Even if 'ordinary' citizens ignored what, in any case, they could do little about, some went the other way and continued to offer information and unsolicited co-operation to the Gestapo, which had the effect of delivering some defenceless Jews over to what they knew was a thoroughly anti-Semitic regime. At the very moment when the deportations were under way from Lower Franconia, the following case was brought to light.

It was reported to the ordinary police under the authority of the Mayor of Miltenberg on 23 November 1941 that Elizabeth Mannheimer, a Jewish woman (born 1875), had bought schnapps in the store of the merchant Ludwig Hell (born 1878); these two people had known each other for nearly fifty years. Frau Helene Pfaff, 63-year-old mother of Maria Pfaff, had purchased schnapps in the same store in the morning, but in the afternoon wanted more-it was claimed that the additional drink was going to be sent to a son who was in the east fighting Soviet armies. Merchant Hell told Frau Pfaff 's daughter, who went to pick up the schnapps, that he could sell her no more at the moment because her family had already made one purchase of 'goods in short supply' that day; at that point he turned to his old Jewish customer and sold her some schnapps. (Because there were so few Jews left in town-a mere twelve in all-there were no specific times set aside for their shopping, as happened elsewhere.) At a preliminary hearing by Ober- wachtmeister Flick, Hell denied that he was a 'friend to the Jews'. He (rightly) claimed that it was not forbidden to sell these goods to Jews, and furthermore, given the shortages, he had merely wanted to distribute what was available as fairly as possible. After Hell angrily left the police station, Flick wrote a damning report, in which, among other things, he observed that 'while on all fronts our brave soldiers are protecting the home from the greatest dangers, and many of these brave ones are being cut down in the cruellest ways by bloodthirsty Jewish creatures', merchant Hell, branded by the policeman as a 'slave of the Jews' (Judenknecht), dared to refuse to sell a drop of warming schnapps to the mother of a German soldier, but gave it instead to Frau Mannheimer, whose son 'sits in London and defames the Fatherland'. That report was sent to the magistrate in Miltenberg, who forwarded it to the Gestapo in Wi rzburg. On 19 December 1941 they brought in merchant Hell for questioning. His line of defence was that he was not informed that the second purchase of schnapps was to be sent to a soldier in the field. He was warned by Gramowski of the Gestapo not to sell 'goods in short supply' to Jews in the future.

Frau Mannheimer, who was ill, was not questioned until 4 March 1942, when something even more serious was revealed. It turned out that she had made a gift of her house to her former servant Elina Seuss (born 1890). While Frau Mannheimer spent each night in the local Jewish old-age home (and had done so since January 1941), during the day she went back to her former house, where Seuss cooked and looked after her (as she had done for some thirty-four years). Though the gift of the house took place legally and was registered, the Gestapo would not tolerate Seuss working as a servant, put her in gaol for a couple of weeks (7 to 2I March), and gave her a warning. Mannheimer was subsequently confined to the old-age home, while her lifelong servant was detailed for work in agriculture, for which she had neither experience nor, in all probability, much strength."

This was a case that began with a denunciation from people who, it seems, were simply after an excessive share of schnapps for themselves. The local gendarme played the role of petty tyrant and Nazi enforcer. Certainly, merchant Hell's courage was put to the test; he swore later to the Gestapo that since the 'events' he had refused to sell anything to the Jews 'because I do not want to have any further unpleasantness'.

The dire consequences which followed were out of all proportion to the pettiness of the complaint. However, once 'opponents' such as the Jews were involved in any case, it ceased to be trivial. The case also shows how racial policy was enforced all the way down the line. The action which formed the basis of the indictment in the first instance-selling schnapps to Jews-had not even found its way into a law or regulation at this time. Two long-term relationships with Frau Mannheimer were broken off, and no doubt the word spread rapidly through the small town. The Pfaff family, 'ordinary' citizens, helped make possible the policing of the spirit of Nazi racism. The whole case took place when Jews were much in need of support-for it was at this time that the deportations were under way. Once the matter was brought to police attention, the network moved into relentless action, with the Gestapo in faroff Wurzburg providing the ultimate sanction. While merchant Hell might storm angrily out of the Miltenberg police station, he would not conduct himself thus in the Wurzburg Gestapo post.

Numerous other Germans in the employ of Jews or in some kind of business contact with them had brushes with the Gestapo when they persisted in these relations or expressed the mildest kinds of solidarity with the persecuted, such as visiting them or offering some assistance. In November 1941 Mathilde Braun (born 1913) visited Selma Goldstein (born 1878) to whom she had been a servant for ten years, at the old-age home for Jewish people. The servant was spotted in the company of three women in front of the building by the notorious Gestapo official Michael Volkl, who was there by chance on another matter (in all likelihood arranging the deportations of Jews). Braun stood out as the only one not wearing a yellow star. She admitted under questioning that it was known to her 'that that sort of socializing with Jews was forbidden' but that she had felt sorry for her former employer. Braun ended up by spending three weeks in gaol until the matter was cleared up. In September 1942 Frau Goldstein was sent to the Theresienstadt concentration camp.47

In January 1942 the Wurzburg Kreisleitung of the NSDAP wrote to the Gestapo to say that 'it had been observed' that German 'racial comrade' Elenore Lohmann was seen daily on visits to the home of a Jewish woman, Sarah Stern, and 'because the suspicion exists that Lohmann is providing the Jewish resident with food' a request was made to undertake 'the necessary'
action. Stern (born 1877), had employed Lohmann (about 65 years of age) as housekeeper until 1940; they had known each other for 'about twenty to twenty-five years'. Lohmann and her married daughter, who could not afford to give very much, had on occasions done a kindness. For example, when Stern's son was 'evacuated' in November 1941, he was brought a cooked chicken, for which no money was taken. In the future, the Gestapo made clear, all relations between Jews and non-Jews ('Aryans') were to cease, as these were legally 'forbidden'
.411 Here the small comfort provided by an old employee of very humble circumstances was treated by the Gestapo and NSDAP as an extremely serious offence. The case shows just how determined some people were to implement the letter of the law, and, moreover, how such enforcement was dependent on a tip-off about the 'criminal' deeds.49

Some merchants caught in the act tried to come up with ad hoc justifications for selling goods to Jews. Thus, a report from Kitzingen stated that in mid1941 a fish-merchant accused of being a 'friend to the Jews' claimed that he was overpricing the fish he sold them. He may well have invented this part of the story for his own protection."'

Gestapo files sometimes came into existence when someone noticed 'suspicious mail', whereupon the Gestapo might order a 'postal surveillance'. Needless to say, a careless phrase from a Jewish person who had already emigrated could lead to real trouble."
Indeed, post from emigrated Jews seems to have been checked regularly, not by the Gestapo but by the post office, and all were keen to sniff out any deviations.52
One Wurzburg postman was himself denounced in April 1936 for subletting part of his four-room apartment to a Jew before 1935.53
Two men in the wine business, one of them Jewish, who had known each other since 1900 got into trouble in March 1943 when a house-search in Dusseldorf led to the discovery that the German merchant had been asked to send wine to his Jewish colleague's ex-wife. The deed was traced to Wurzburg, where the elderly wine-dealer (born 1887) 'had it pointed out to him that every relation with Jews is forbidden'.54

When it came to members of the NSDAP, local authorities were determined to enforce Nazi teachings on race as far as possible. Any non-conformity was treated as a grave offence and could result in expulsion from the Party. A 41year-old farmer from Unteralthertheim who played cards with some Jews was thrown out of the NSDAP in late February 1936.5'
A merchant and Party member, Adolf Baumann, who moved to the town of Willmars towards the
end of 1937, began almost immediately to have social contacts with local Jewish people. The cell-leader reported that, to no avail, he had reminded Baumann of his duties as a Party member. Baumann's wife, who visited Jewish neighbours, was thrown out of the Nazi women's organization (NS Frauenschaft). Summoned before the cell-leader, the couple were anything but willing to follow their leader's commands. Eventually, in October 1938, some windows were broken in Baumann's store: understandable, said the gendarme's report to the Gestapo, given behaviour which had 'raised a strong anger in the population'. This coded expression signified that the local NSDAP and SA had probably thrown the stones. By 3o August 1939 the man had successfully been kicked out of the Party, which ended the affair for the time being.'`'

These and similar cases of non-compliance with the Nazi stance on isolating the Jews socially and economically, suggest an official paranoid suspicion that, despite all the regime's efforts, the Jews' social and economic privileges persisted. Munich's Gestapo headquarters alerted all branches in Bavaria on i9 November 1936 to watch out for the 'camouflage of Jewish businesses'; behind the front of ownership by an old employee, friend, or acquaintance, the Jewish owner might still be continuing as before. Cases were cited where non-Jewish merchants and customers co-operated in the 'camouflage', such as by mailing wares under their name instead of that of the Jewish merchant, and so on.57
Local authorities out in the provinces seemed fanatical in their efforts to make sure that Jews were not carrying on under some guise or other, and in their zeal do not seem to have required much urging from Berlin or anywhere else. Their efforts could not have succeeded without the cooperation of at least some of the population, and they were definitely assisted by denunciations from people who were moved as much by personal motives as by anti-Semitism.
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