“Practice,” she said airily. Then, hooking her arm through his, she pulled him forward.
“Good luck,” Oma Inga called as they went out the door to the garage.
6:52 p.m.—In Front of the Zeidner Home
The girls were out of the car and up on the front step before Hans and Emilee had opened their doors. As Hans came around the car and put his arm through his wife’s, she looked up at him anxiously. “Hans, you’re not going to say anything to them about your feelings toward the party, are you? Or about the discussion we’ve had about you leaving the party?”
That took him by surprise. “Of course not. But we need to counsel them about how to act tonight, Emilee. You and I have raised a couple of daughters who are very independent and who think for themselves and are not shy about speaking their minds. And that makes me proud. But tonight they can’t be popping off with whatever comes into their heads. Alemann and I both agree that we need to counsel them about what to do and what not to do tonight. Unfortunately, the fact that they are with me will naturally draw some attention to them. And to you, too, but I never worry about you saying something inappropriate.”
“Thank you,” she said, touched by his frankness. “And what about the Zeidners?”
“Simple. Our daughters attend the same academy. Since our daughters all have to be here, we came together.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m not sure why, but my stomach is doing butterflies.”
“That’s all?” he chuckled. “I’ve got walruses doing backflips in mine.” Hans hesitated, not sure if he should share something with her, but then he decided it was important.
“This morning before school, I overheard Lisa talking with Erika on the phone. She’s very worked up about tonight. You know how she loves books and readings. The idea of burning books is abhorrent to her.”
“I would hope so.”
“I agree, Emilee,” Hans replied with a touch of exasperation, “but she told Erika that when they are asked to throw books on the fire she is going to turn her back and refuse to do so.”
Emilee’s hand jerked free. “She said that?”
“Ja. And because she thinks the whole thing is terribly wrong, she said that she’s not going to sing ‘Deutschland über Alles’ if they ask us to, nor salute the flag.”
“Oh, Hans!” Emilee whispered.
“Oh, Hans, indeed! That’s why we have to say something. Lisa has to know that her temper can get her into serious trouble. All of us in trouble.”
“Then let’s go do it.” As they started forward again, Emilee added, “And, Hans, we have to keep her and Jo right beside us. All evening. Right next to us!”
“Alemann is going to talk to his girls about that too. No wandering off to see friends. I’ll tell them that if Alemann doesn’t.”
“No!” Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his arm. “You tell them that whether Alemann does or not.”
7:02 p.m.
Alemann looked at the group for what seemed like a very long time before he cleared his throat and began to speak. Sensing the gravity in him, the four girls were watching him intently.
“As your parents, we have pondered over the experience we are all going to have tonight. So Hans and I agreed that we needed to talk with you before we leave. I suggested that Hans do it. He suggested that I do it.” There was a momentary ghost of a smile. “He won.”
There were brief smiles, but nothing more. These girls were nothing if not intelligent, and they sensed that there was much more to this pre-rally talk than their parents were letting on.
“I would like to begin,” Alemann continued, “by saying that I am filled with a sense of horror at what will happen tonight, as I hope all of us are. The government is saying that this is a symbolic act that demonstrates our commitment to cleansing the unwanted elements from our society. But it is much more than that. We will not be throwing ‘symbolic’ books onto the pyre tonight. They will be real. On my way to the university this morning, I took a detour and drove up around the Königsplatz where we are going tonight. The plaza was cordoned off by storm troopers and police, but I could see a stack of books in the center of square. It is massive. Probably twenty to twenty-five feet high or more. And there are trucks parked out in the grass, all filled with more books. Almost certainly, you along with your fellow students will be asked to go over to the trucks and get the books and take them to the fire.”
“I won’t do it!” Lisa cried. “They can’t make me.”
Emilee reached over to take her hand but she yanked it away. Her father started to say something, but Alemann came back in smoothly. He spoke directly to Lisa now. “Why do you think they chose to burn books tonight, Alisa? Why not desks, or pencils, or notebooks? Or why not just give a lecture on how to be a better Nazi? Why books?”
“I. . . .” She was clearly surprised by his question. “Because of what’s in them, I guess.”
“Yes, exactly. We know that not all books are good, but most books are a powerful instrument for influencing the mind. In addition to entertaining us, books instruct. Books dispense information. Books stir our emotions. Books teach values and preserve culture. They condemn evil and injustice, stimulate right thinking, and enlighten our understanding.”
“Then why burn them, Papa?” Erika cried.
Alemann looked around at all of them, his demeanor as somber as Hans had ever seen it. “You tell me, girls. Why burn them?”
When they only looked at each other and didn’t answer, Emilee spoke up. “It is precisely because they teach values and condemn evil. It is precisely because books can be a powerful influence for good and a catalyst for change. There are always those who are threatened by that.”
“Well said,” Alemann replied. He turned back to the girls. “Though it pains me deeply to say this to you girls”—he sighed—“who are now young women, I shall not mince words. These times do not allow it. Tonight, we will be participating in what is very likely to be the first of many profound changes in our society. What is happening now in our country is like a great avalanche bearing down upon the Fatherland, and it is sweeping away many things before it. The Weimar Republic is no more. It is nothing but dust and rubble now. And in its place is the Third Reich. We no longer live in a democratic society, but under a new dictatorship. Hardly a day goes by now that we do not see new changes, new laws, new ways of doing things. The old institutions are being smashed apart while new ways are rising up almost all around us.”
Alemann paused. None of them spoke, but their eyes were fixed upon him. “Let me briefly explain what brought this night about. One of the first things Hitler did when he came to power was create a new state ministry. It’s called the Ministry of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda. That name says it all. They see their charge as changing how the citizenry think and feel. They are not satisfied with just an acceptance of the new government. They want to enlighten us, to convert us! And that is especially true of you young people. They don’t just want your compliance. They want your hearts! They want your minds! They want you to feel and believe as they do. It frightens them when you do not. That is one of the reasons why they chose students to be the ones to burn the books that are ‘un-German in spirit.’”
Richelle cleared her throat now. Alemann turned to her. “I don’t understand exactly what that term means. Do they define what is un-German?”
“Yes, they do,” Hans said quietly. “It is whatever they say it is.”
“Yes,” Alemann said. “They use terms like immoral, subversive, or Jewish intellectualism—meaning that if the author was Jewish, it must automatically be contaminated. Other words they use are degenerate, decadent, demeaning, degrading, destructive, damaging, or demoralizing to the Nazi spirit.”
“Oh, my,” Lisa said under her breath.
Alemann nodded somberly and went on. “The student unions across
the land compiled lists of unacceptable books and plays and magazines. They sent those lists to the Ministry, and from that a final list of about four thousand banned books was made up.”
“Four thousand!” Emilee cried.
“Yes. And those are what will be there in the plaza tonight.”
Lisa’s hand came up timidly. “Would we recognize any of the authors?”
“Many of the names you won’t recognize. Some have been dead for over a hundred years. But here are a few you might recognize. Albert Einstein.”
“What!” Hans exploded. “You’re joking, right? Einstein?”
“No joke, Hans. Einstein and his wife are Jewish. Non-observant Jews, but Jews nevertheless. Sigmund Freud, who is also Jewish. Ernest Hemingway, the popular American writer who is considered a decadent, immoral man. Thomas Mann, a Nobel Prize winner here in Germany. Karl Marx—no surprise there. H. G. Wells, a self-described socialist from Great Britain. Upton Sinclair and Jack London, two more American writers.”
“No!” Lisa wailed. “Not Jack London. I love Jack London. The Call of the Wild, White Fang, Sea Wolf—those are some of my favorite books ever! I’ve read The Call of the Wild three times.”
“You got them from the library, right?” Emilee asked quietly.
Lisa turned, surprised by the question. “Yes.”
“Don’t do that anymore.” Emilee shook her head. “Not that the library will likely have them any longer, but any name you hear or see tonight, don’t ask for those books again.”
Richelle spoke up. “They listed one of my favorite authors too, Lisa. Helen Keller, the American woman who became deaf and blind.”
Emilee stared at her. “Really? I read her autobiography and thought it was one of the most inspiring books I’ve ever read.” She turned to Alemann. “Surely they don’t see her as subversive?”
“Actually, it was because of her belief in social justice and the fact that she championed the rights of the handicapped and disabled, which are now defined as a danger to the purity of the Aryan race. She has also fought against poor conditions for industrial workers, so she’s seen as a radical social activist.”
He let them digest that for a few moments and then went on, as somber as before. “I tell you all of this, girls, because that is what you are going to see tonight. Hitler envisions a new order, a reawakening of what he calls the ‘long-dormant Germanic spirit’ through racial purification, military strength, and intellectual cleansing.”
Richelle leaned in. “Alemann, be careful what you say.”
“I am only saying what the Führer himself has said.”
Lisa and Jo had turned and were watching their father closely as Alemann spoke. Hans thought he knew what they might be thinking. He leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “Jo and Lisa, Leyna and Erika, as you all know, I am a high-ranking member of the Nazi Party. I have known Adolf Hitler for much of my life. But I do not agree with what is happening tonight. It deeply disturbs me.”
He shook his head slowly. “But tonight, you will see me raise my hand and cry out, ‘Sieg Heil’ and ‘Heil Hitler.’”
“And you,” Alemann said in a voice filled with pain, “you will do the same thing. We don’t know where this is taking us, but for right now, the Zeidners and the Eckhardts are going to be doing what everyone else is doing. Saluting. Singing our national anthem with full voice. Clapping when the party leader finishes his speech. Because if we don’t, we all could be in very grave danger. Do you understand that? This is a new day in the Fatherland. A dark day, but that is the reality.”
“And you must speak of none of this to your friends,” Richelle came in. “No one. Not even the ones you think may agree with you.”
“Nor your younger brothers and sister,” Emilee added.
“Not even a hint,” Richelle went on. “This is not something you make jokes about. We are going to spend much time talking about what this means for our families in the weeks and months to come, but tonight we are going to be there with thousands of others, and we will do what they are doing.”
She turned and looked directly at Alisa and Jolanda. “My dear, dear Lisa and Jo. I view you as if you were my own daughters. But tonight, dear Lisa, is not the night for being independent. So when they ask you to take those books and throw them on the fire, you must do so without hesitation. You must keep your head high and a smile on your face. And if they invite the adults to do that too, Alemann and I will be right there beside you.”
“As will your mother and I,” Hans said quietly.
Lisa stared at her father for several seconds and then nodded. “I understand, Papa.”
“Tonight,” Alemann said, “we will be standing in the path of that avalanche of which I spoke. It will be coming straight at us. And though it breaks my heart to say this, tonight all of us must stand straight and tall. We must not flinch as the avalanche sweeps over us.”
“Is there nothing we can do, Papa?” Erika whispered.
“Not tonight,” he said after a moment. “Later, yes. But not tonight.”
Hans got clumsily to his feet. “It’s time to go.” Lisa’s hand came slowly up. He nodded at her. “Yes, Lisa?”
“There is one thing we can do tonight. Can we say a prayer before we go, Papa?”
Tears sprang to his eyes, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Then he said, “Oh, my darling Lisa. We can indeed.” He turned to Emilee. “Would you do that for us, Schatzi?”
Without answering, Emilee dropped to her knees beside her chair. The others quickly followed, with Hans awkwardly kneeling against the sofa beside his wife. She reached out and took his hand and then bowed her head, closed her eyes, and began to pray.
Chapter Notes
On May 10, 1933, in thirty-four university cities across the length and breadth of Germany, tens of thousands came together to join in a unified rejection of everything the Nazis deemed objectionable or dangerous to their people. A few cities had to postpone their rallies due to rain. But eventually every major university city in Germany participated. The official estimate was that more than 40,000 books were burned (see https://www.ushmm.org
/wlc/en/article.php?ModuleId=10005852; Shirer, Rise and Fall, 241).
All of the banned authors mentioned here were included on the official list, along with other American authors besides those named here. This triggered vehement counter protests in various cities across America. Helen Keller wrote a blistering response wherein she said, “History has taught you nothing if you think you can kill ideas. You can burn my books and the books of the best minds in Europe, but the ideas in them have seeped through a million channels, and will continue to quicken other minds” (see http://braillebug.afb.org/hkholocaust.asp).
May 10, 1933, 8:07 p.m.—Königsplatz, Central Munich
The King’s Square was dominated by three neo-Classical Greek style buildings. On the west was the great Propylaea Gate, built nearly a hundred years before. The massive gate was modeled after the Propylaea Gate that served as the entrance to the Acropolis in Athens.
On the north and south sides of the square were two museums, one housing Greek, Roman, and Etruscan statuary, the other housing other artifacts from those same cultures. The east end of the square was open to Briennerstrasse, a main road that allowed traffic to drive straight through the plaza. On both sides of the street were expansive areas of green lawns. Thick rows of trees lined the outside perimeter of the plaza.
Since only pedestrian traffic could pass through the Propylaea Gate, the street split and formed a circle around the gate, allowing traffic from both directions to go around the gate as they exited or entered the plaza.
But on this night, Briennerstrasse was completely closed to traffic. Near the center of the plaza, a massive pile of books filled the entire street and the sidewalks on each side. Storm troopers formed a wide ring around it, cordoning off the people from getting
too close.
Hans’s parking pass had seemed to Lisa like a magical ticket to fairyland. As soon as one of the policemen on motorcycles saw the tag, they were led through areas cordoned off by sawhorses or blocked by uniformed guards and escorted to the west side of the great gate. There a parking place had been saved for them.
The Brown Shirt guarding the spot quickly removed two small sawhorses and motioned for Hans to park there. He saluted sharply as Hans did so. They were now parked only fifty feet from the stand.
This was a side to her father that Lisa had never seen. Both the policemen and the Brown Shirt were obsequiously deferential, not just to her father but to all of them, including the Zeidners. Did they assume that Erika’s father was also a high mucky-muck in the party? Erika and Leyna were also impressed. As they got out of the car, another storm trooper, this time a lieutenant, came over and saluted sharply. He then escorted them over to the stand, where Herr Dorfuss was engaged with a group of officious-looking people.
But when Dorfuss saw the officer coming with Hans and his party, he immediately left the others and rushed over. Dressed in a grey uniform bedecked with medals, none of which Hans recognized, the portly, fawning little man was almost comical in his eagerness to please. Bowing and scraping as Hans introduced everyone to him, his forehead was speckled with beads of perspiration, which he kept dabbing at with his handkerchief. The evening was not that warm, so Lisa assumed it was more nervousness than the heat that was causing him to perspire.
As the party leader pulled Hans to one side and began speaking earnestly with him, Lisa turned to her mother. “Is this normal?”
Emilee laughed and shook her head. She leaned in close as the other six gathered around her. “Your father’s secretary wasn’t sure if she was authorized to request parking privileges for an event as big as this one,” Emilee explained in a low voice. “So she called Berlin and asked Rudolf Hess what to do. Hess was Hans’s boss for quite a while, and they are good friends. Hess decided to forward her request on to the private secretary of Herr Joseph Goebbels, who is the cabinet minister for this department. Goebbels was evidently delighted to hear that your father was up and around, so he had his secretary call Herr Dorfuss directly.”
Out of the Smoke Page 31
