Based on what he had seen and heard, Goldman had radically revised his views of Germany. “Mr. McDonald, I never would have believed that the worst of the fifteenth and sixteenth century would return in this twentieth century and of all places in Germany,” he said. When McDonald asked him how long he was staying, he replied: “Just as long as I can bear it.”
Later that same day, Hanfstaengl had arranged for McDonald to meet Hitler, giving him the opportunity to ask him directly about “the Jewish question.” As the American visitor entered his office, Hitler “sized me up from head to foot with glances obviously half suspicious,” McDonald recorded. But he appeared almost nonchalant in replying to his queries about his anti-Semitic policies.
“We are not primarily attacking the Jews, rather the Socialists and the Communists,” Hitler declared. “The United States has shut out such people. We did not do so. Therefore, we cannot be blamed if we now take measures against them. Besides, as to Jews, why should there be such a fuss when they are thrown out of places, when hundreds of thousands of Aryan Germans are on the streets? No, the world has no just ground for complaint.”
McDonald observed that Hitler had “the eyes of a fanatic, but he has in addition, I think, much more reserve and control and intelligence than most fanatics.”
That was what McDonald recorded of his encounter in his diary right afterward. Later, when he returned to the United States, he offered an additional description of what Hitler said. “His word to me was, ‘I will do the thing that the rest of the world would like to do. It doesn’t know how to get rid of the Jews. I will show them.’ ”
5
“Get Out, and Fast”
Hamilton Fish Armstrong, the editor of Foreign Affairs who had visited Germany and charted its politics during the Weimar era, showed up in Berlin on Hitler’s birthday, April 20, 1933, less than two weeks after McDonald’s departure. That morning, on his way from the train station to the Adlon Hotel where he was staying, Armstrong saw groups of boisterous Brownshirts preparing for the festivities. By noon, a crowd was gathered on Pariser Platz in front of his hotel, but sleet and rain kept the enthusiasm level down, despite the attempt to stir up emotions with a loudspeaker that broadcast Nazi slogans.
Armstrong knew many officials and professors from the Weimar era, along with some of the diplomats and correspondents stationed in Berlin. He found that some of the British and American correspondents were wary of reporting all the stories of Nazi atrocities that were floating about, but they realized that it was enough to quote the statements of the Nazis themselves to convey the draconian nature of their new policies.
Among the American diplomats, he considered George Messersmith the most knowledgeable—and the most upset about what was happening on a daily basis. “He could hardly restrain himself when he talked about the Nazis, biting his cigar into two pieces and tossing them away in disgust as he catalogued his difficulties in trying to protect American citizens from molestation,” Armstrong recalled. Messersmith expressed his frustration at the powerlessness of government officials to restrain the Nazis; the militarism of the party activists, he continued, was making it increasingly unlikely that peace in Europe would last long.
Reconnecting with Germans he had known earlier, Armstrong heard a very dubious take on the new Hitler regime. Foreign Ministry officials like Hans Dieckhoff, who would later serve as the German ambassador to Washington, “were holding on to their offices and keeping quiet,” he noted. Their message to him was that the Nazis were “a flash in the pan,” and these officials insisted that they were trying to minimize the damage to German interests and foreign policy, waiting until a new government would take over. If Hitler did stay in power, they added, he could end up charting a more moderate course as he came to grips with the realities of the world. “They were not unintelligent men but I knew in my bones that they were wrong,” Armstrong wrote later.
Part of the reason for Armstrong’s pessimism was his realization that so many of the people he had consulted on previous visits—academic luminaries like agricultural expert Karl Brandt, economist Moritz Bonn and Ernst Jäckh, the founder of the Hochschule für Politik, some of whom had contributed articles to Foreign Affairs or worked closely with the Council on Foreign Relations, its parent organization—were nowhere to be found. “They had disappeared, I was told, and in any case it was better for them that I should not try to look them up,” he recalled. Many members of the intellectual elite in such fields as medicine, science and literature had already lost their jobs, and several had fled the country to avoid more serious persecution. “It was staggering to think of what the resulting intellectual vacuum would mean in a country bled white and defeated in a devastating war,” Armstrong later noted.
Like McDonald, the visiting editor was determined to meet the man who was responsible for these dramatic changes, the new leader who was the focal point of all the speculation about the country’s future. As a first step, he went to meet Hjalmar Schacht, whom Hitler had reappointed to his old job as president of the Reichsbank as a reward for his support. It was a bizarre experience. Arriving at the Reichsbank, Armstrong was led to the big empty kitchen. Schacht was posing for a sculptor who was making a bust of him. Since the sculptor wanted to view him from an angle from below just as others would view the bust later, he had him seated on a chair placed on a large table. So while the sculptor worked and struggled, as Armstrong recalled, with shaping a likeness of his “screwed-up ugly face,” Schacht explained to Armstrong how the Nazis were going to correct the excesses of capitalism, providing a more stable, reliable economic system. He also promised to write an article for Foreign Affairs, which he did a year later.
Armstrong was bemused by what he considered to be this moralizing about capitalism from a man who had drummed up support of German capitalists for Hitler, but he wasn’t about to show it. His goal was to get the banker’s help in lining up an interview with Hitler. If that meant playing to Schacht’s “great vanity,” as Armstrong put it, he was happy to do so.
Those tactics worked. On April 27, a week after his arrival in Berlin, Putzi Hanfstaengl showed up at the Adlon to take him to his interview. Armstrong was startled to see Putzi in his new Nazi uniform, the one that he would wear that evening to the Lochners’ dinner party. As Armstrong recalled, “nothing matched” in the bizarre outfit: the tunic, shirt and breeches were all different shades of brown—“olive drab,” “yellowish brown” and “a rather sickly greenish brown.”
“Why, Putzi, I’ve never seen you in uniform before. How magnificent!” Armstrong declared.
Hanfstaengl took his compliment deadly seriously. “Yes, it is rather good, isn’t it?” he replied. “Don’t tell anyone, but it’s English stuff. That does make a difference.”
When he was escorted into Hitler’s office at the Chancellery, still filled with potted flowers that had been birthday gifts, the German leader greeted him with a handshake, motioned him to a table and, as Hanfstaengl and another aide looked on, quickly launched into an opening monologue stressing his commitment to peace. “His general appearance was insignificant,” Armstrong recalled, noting his large nose and small wrinkles about his eyes. But if those wrinkles made him appear inquisitive, that was totally misleading. “Although I had come from the West where his policies had aroused such fierce antagonism,” Armstrong pointed out, “he did not ask me a single question or by any remark or reference reveal that he was in the least concerned by what the world thought of him or of the position in which he had placed his country.” When Hitler spoke, he didn’t look at Armstrong, instead keeping his eyes “fixed on the upper distance, which made it seem as though he were in communication with God.”
Hitler’s presentation about Germany’s peaceful intentions quickly was transformed into his standard denunciation of the Versailles Treaty and of the “impossible and intolerable” border with Poland. He portrayed the eastern neighbor as a monster hovering over Germany. “Poland holds a naked knife in her teeth,” he s
aid, clenching his teeth for added effect, “and looks at us menacingly.” Germany had been forced to disarm and was surrounded by such threatening neighbors, he insisted. The armies of France, Poland, Czechoslovakia and Belgium had fifty soldiers for every German soldier, he added, which meant that if there was any outbreak of fighting, the responsibility would clearly be theirs.
As Armstrong recalled, a lock of Hitler’s hair came down menacingly over his eye as he forcefully punctuated his argument with what he believed was irrefutable logic: “To say the contrary is to say that a toothless rabbit would start a battle with a tiger.”
Hitler had no problem combining his withering attacks on Poland, the most anti-Bolshevik country in the region, which had fought a war with Russia in 1920, with his thesis that the world’s key countries should unite to defend themselves against the threat of Bolshevism. “We are armed today with spears, bows and arrows and swords,” he continued. “Does that condition represent a danger to the peace of the world? Or does the danger of war come from the vast arms produced by Poland?” The only means to right those wrongs, he insisted, was for Germany to rearm. “We cannot and will not wait longer. The sine qua non of any agreement which Germany will join must be, at the very minimum, equality in arms.”
Armstrong tried to interject other questions during the rare moments when Hitler paused in his monologues, but the German leader had no interest in anything resembling a give-and-take. As Hitler escorted him to the door, Armstrong slipped in his barbed thanks for addressing him rather than the usual millions of Germans. The German leader missed the irony completely and declared he had enjoyed their “animated talk.”
On the way back to the Adlon, Hanfstaengl was effusive, claiming that Hitler was more open than he had ever been with a foreign visitor. “Wasn’t he lovely to you?” he asked rhetorically. Besides, he added, it was such a great compliment that he had escorted his guest to the door, which he normally didn’t do.
But Armstrong was feeling anything but “lovely” about the new Germany, which was so different than the country he had visited in the 1920s. Returning to New York, he quickly wrote a slim volume called Hitler’s Reich: The First Phase, which was published in July 1933. Its opening words offered a dramatic—and devastatingly accurate—description of the country’s brutal transformation:
A people has disappeared. Almost every German whose name the world knew as a master of government or business in the Republic of the past fourteen years is gone. There are exceptions; but the waves are swiftly cutting the sand from beneath them, and day by day, one by one, these last specimens of another age, another folk, topple over into the Nazi sea. So completely has the Republic been wiped out that the Nazis find it difficult to believe it ever existed…
Anyone who did not accept Hitler’s rule, pledging full allegiance to the man and his movement, wasn’t just wiped out: “It is pretended that he never was. His name is not mentioned, even in scorn. If one asks about him, a vague answer is given: ‘Oh, yes—but is he still alive? Maybe he is abroad. Or is he in a nursing home?’ This does not apply merely to Jews and communists, fled or imprisoned or detained ‘for their own protection’ in barbed-wire concentration camps…” Then he went on to mention several national, state and city officials who were also in the category of the persecuted, the broken or now in exile. “The men who ruled Germany in these fourteen years have been swept away, out of sight, out of mind, out (according to the program of Dr. Goebbels, propagandist-in-chief) of history.”
Armstrong neatly conveyed the strategy of the Nazis as they resurrected “Teutonic mysticism” and the notion of “the German super-man,” but had to explain why the superior warrior was defeated in the previous war. “Either he is not a super-man, or there is an alibi,” he wrote. “The alibi is furnished by the Jew, the traitor within the gates.”
Despite this stark portrait of the new Germany that he painted, Armstrong asked near the end of his book whether Hitler, “having given the German spirit an opportunity to purge itself of part of its store of resentment and hate and envy,” might chart a more moderate course, more like his predecessors who tried to redress their country’s grievances in a more patient, long-term manner. “The first phase of the revolution is over,” he concluded. “But we cannot pretend that as yet there is any real evidence to cause our fears to diminish, or that our questions can as yet be given any conclusive answers.”
Armstrong was reluctant to give in completely to pessimism—something that he noted with a tinge of regret in his memoirs, since if he had done so he would have been proven completely vindicated by events. But the main import of his slim treatise was clear: Hitler’s Germany was stirring up real fears for good reason—and anyone who downplayed the dangers was dangerously self-delusional.
In early 1933, shortly after Hitler had taken power in Germany, another new leader appeared on the world scene: Franklin D. Roosevelt. Coming to power in the midst of the Great Depression, he was understandably preoccupied with his domestic agenda. In his inaugural address on March 4, 1933, the same day that the Nazis won the most seats in the Reichstag elections, he focused on the need for national recovery, only making a brief mention of “world policy” during which he pledged that the United States would be “the good neighbor.”
But Roosevelt faced an almost immediate decision about whom to send to replace Sackett, Herbert Hoover’s envoy to Germany whose tour ended in late March. Despite the pull of his domestic agenda, Roosevelt understood that this was an increasingly important post and sought to fill it with someone who would have a chance of playing a constructive role there. He first offered the job to James M. Cox, who had been the Democratic presidential candidate in 1920 and shared the ticket with FDR as his running mate. “I regard Berlin as of special importance at this time,” Roosevelt wrote him, imploring him to accept the post. Cox turned him down, citing his need to attend to his business interests, including his publishing company. The president was no more successful in his subsequent overtures to former Secretary of War Newton Baker, businessman Owen D. Young and a couple of prominent New York politicians.
While he struggled to find a new Berlin envoy, Roosevelt signaled his intent to pursue a global disarmament agenda. On May 16, he appealed to world leaders to begin scrapping all offensive weapons and to pledge not to engage in acts of aggression. The next day, Hitler appeared at the Reichstag to deliver his own “Peace Speech.” Calling the American president’s proposal “a ray of comfort for all who wish to co-operate in the maintenance of peace,” Hitler professed his country’s willingness to renounce all offensive weapons and “to disband her entire military establishment” if her neighbors would do the same thing. War was “unlimited madness,” he added, calling for an end to old enmities and insisting that Germany was ready to live in peace with everyone.
“The speech was the best thing I have heard Hitler do,” Lochner wrote to his daughter Betty afterward. He had presided over the AP bureau’s extensive coverage of the event, and he was still feeling optimistic when he wrote his letter on May 28. The Nazis would have been furious if any Weimar chancellor had delivered such a conciliatory speech, he added. “That’s the interesting thing about dictatorships, anyway: When it comes to foreign policy, they are tame as lambs… for they know they have so much trouble consolidating their power at home that they want to avoid everything possible that might look like trouble with foreign nations. It is quite obvious that Hitler doesn’t want war.”
Lochner wasn’t completely credulous. “Whether, however, when you instill the military traditions in a people, war won’t come anyway, is another question. Certainly, Germany looks like an armed camp,” he wrote, mentioning the proliferation of uniformed Nazis, paramilitary units and police. “Hitler had to explain that the ‘Private Armies’ are harmless ping-pong affairs!”
Despite the generally positive coverage Hitler’s speech received, Roosevelt was hardly sanguine about relations with Germany and continued to be frustrated by his inability to recru
it someone for the Berlin post. But he perked up immediately when, at a meeting on June 7, Secretary of Commerce Daniel Roper suggested his friend William E. Dodd. A professor of history at the University of Chicago who specialized in the Old South, Dodd was born in North Carolina, studied at the Virginia Polytechnic Institute and then went on to get a doctorate at the University of Leipzig. Dodd, who was sixty-three, was both a Democratic partisan and “a democrat in the full American sense of the word,” noted fellow historian Charles A. Beard. Beard added that Dodd was a Baptist who believed in “separation of Church and State, religious liberty and freedom of conscience.”
The very next day, Roosevelt called Dodd at his University of Chicago office. “I want to know if you will render the government a distinct service,” he told the startled professor. “I want you to go to Germany as Ambassador.”
When Dodd recovered from the initial shock, he asked for some time to think the proposition over. “Two hours; can you decide in that time?” Roosevelt persisted, adding that he was sure the German government would not object to a book he had written about Woodrow Wilson or any of his other writings. “That book, your work as a liberal and as a scholar, and your study at a German university are the main reasons for my wishing to appoint you. It is a difficult post and you have cultural approaches that would help. I want an American liberal in Germany as a standing example.”
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