A Dangerous Woman

by Susan Ronald

  With the retreat of the Italians in early September that year, Du Pasquier might have thought that his own dilemma of having to choose between Hitler and Mussolini was resolved. Not so. Thirteen days later, a filial institution of the Reichsbank, Aerobank, received the green light from Roblot to set up a wholly owned subsidiary of Aerobank in Monaco. Gausebeck agreed with Walter Schellenberg’s AMT VI wi* (foreign economic espionage division) that the ideal front man for the proposed bank was a naturalized French citizen from Switzerland, Johann Charles, who was touting for business at AMT VI in Berlin that autumn.

  Schaeffer of the Reichsbank in Paris had only one candidate to stand as Banque Charles’s chief: August T. Gausebeck. Sadly for Du Pasquier, his flirtation with the Italians toppled him as the Germans’ chief financial poodle in Monaco. As a nonresident German with most of his own money in Switzerland, Gausebeck could be considered a Swiss banker, Schaeffer asserted. The ambitious young Walter Schellenberg, head of counterintelligence (SD-Ausland), with direct access to Heinrich Himmler, agreed.14 All they needed now was a strong American name.

  In a letter written by Schaeffer dated September 5, 1944, he states that he traveled to Nice to see Frank personally, accompanied by Baron Charles. Schaeffer believed that Frank was “enthusiastic” and even proposed to put some of his own money into the new bank.15 Undoubtedly, the year 1944 was a typographical error. The Germans had already lost France and Monaco by September 5. More credible is the year 1943, when, at last, Banque Charles was becoming a reality. Of course, Frank would have been enthusiastic in 1943—when he, like many listening to “fake news” behind enemy lines, was far from sure of an Allied victory. Yet, Florence was not to know that Schaeffer had made separate overtures to Frank.

  * * *

  Aerobank began life as an extension of the Reichswerke Hermann Göring, a major steel and manufacturing group in Germany aimed at the creation of the Luftwaffe and weapons. In 1942, Aerobank became the Luftwaffe’s Bank der Deutschen Luftfahrt. It was obvious to anyone examining Banque Charles that Aerobank represented a significant flight of public and private Nazi capital of the highest order.16 Gausebeck knew from his year-long visit in Berlin that top private Nazi capital needed to find a secure home in the event of defeat, and that Göring, Himmler, and Ribbentrop had already begun to safeguard their personal capital on foreign shores. Nonetheless, Gausebeck also knew that the bank’s existence needed to be guarded from Hitler. Such an institution would be quashed by the Führer as defeatist.

  Given that Gausebeck was stripped of his alien residency and deported from the United States, he could not appear as the main director of the bank. But Gausebeck had the idea of involving an American “cloak” in the new bank. Someone who would be above reproach for the Americans. Someone who naturally had business in the United States and France, and who was sympathetic to Germans, if not the Reich.

  Florence’s name—rather than Frank’s—was thrown against the wall, probably by Vogel since he had strong connections to Aerobank. It stuck. Not only did she fit the description given by Schellenberg to Gausebeck—that is, if the Americans hadn’t known about her other activities during the occupation. To boot, she owned all those lovely hotels and casinos that were such a rich source of foreign exchange. Besides, she was already involved in separate business endeavors with Guisan, Szkolnikoff, and Du Pasquier.

  Consequently, a well-primed Baron Charles was introduced to Roblot by Gausebeck on November 26, 1943. The bank would be capitalized at 100 million francs and the license granted would be for the benefit of Aerobank. It would be “a limited partnership, Monégasque, funded by German capital and independent of any German bank.”17 In a show of goodwill, Gausebeck opened an account at Crédit Lyonnais in Monaco, depositing 5 million francs. Roblot, naturally, gave the nod. Schaeffer of the Reichsbank remained involved, too, at long distance from Paris.

  * * *

  Florence’s version of her involvement with Banque Charles was that she met Charles through Vogel, at Vogel’s 133 avenue Malakoff apartment, in the spring of 1944. Feigning distaste, she said with a curled lip, “He called himself ‘Baron.’” At the same time, she was introduced to Gausebeck and his American wife. “It was understood with my Commissarer Warsinski [sic] that I could remove 8 million francs [from the Gould French operations] and that I could become a silent partner in a bank at Monte Carlo having a capital of 80 million francs,” Florence said. When asked what transactions had taken place, she did something quite revealing. She repeated the question.

  “Transactions of the bank?” she asked. Everyone who faces a difficult question in a deposition knows that they should always repeat the question to give themselves time. “It did not do any business but it was to have done international operations.” The question was about transactions, not whether it had any operations. Transactions would include any monies Florence, or others, put into the fledgling bank. Again, when asked about Charles’s role, she repeated the question. “What role was Charles to have?” she asked. After a further pause, she said, “He had funds in Germany and he claimed his German nationality so that he could recover his funds in Germany.”18 The replies were short, which is safest, but not entirely truthful.

  Among the pack of lies she told after the liberation of France was another revealing tidbit. Florence said that her only Swiss connections stemmed from her stepdaughter, Helen Gould, who had married Henri Guisan. Helen’s first husband was Baron Jean de Montenach, whom she divorced before becoming Mrs. Helen G. Marat of Lausanne, Switzerland.19 Helen never married Henri Guisan, son of Switzerland’s army chief. Jean Guisan, that some Guisan close relation and member of the board of several of the Gould companies, was never mentioned.

  In May 1944, with D-Day widely anticipated in Paris, Florence invested 5 million francs, not 8 million as claimed, in Banque Charles. Gausebeck invested 25 million, as did Charles and a third limited-liability partner, the Thibergian Group, helmed by one Guillaume Lecesne and headquartered in Marseille. Ultimately, however, the Thibergian Group’s owner was none other than Michel Szkolnikoff.20 Lecesne was a fanatical pro-Nazi banker, a member of the loathsome Milice, and like Florence, his involvement was intended as a cloak for the Nazis. Equally, Lecesne was privy to the Italian-inspired Marseille investigation into Frank’s ethnicity the previous year.21

  D-Day on June 6 was the determining factor for Aerobank to give Gausebeck the green light to activate the bank. The mayor of Monte Carlo and notary, Louis Aureglia, registered the company with Roblot’s approval, stating specifically that “in no way is this an importation of capital” to Monaco, in a bald lie.22 Over a billion francs in Nazi money would be invested in Monaco in the closing days of the occupation of France.

  Six weeks before the liberation of Paris, Florence invested a further 2 million francs in a separate account for herself and 200,000 francs in the name of her sister, Isabelle Lacaze, who was already ill with stomach cancer. Despite a total 7.2-million-franc deposit, Florence had no right as a signatory. She had all the obligations of a limited partner without any of the advantages.23 Or had she?

  * * *

  How, if at all, was Vogel involved? Florence said that he had introduced her into the network serving Aerobank. He had worked for the Göring Corporation and later for Focke-Wulf in Paris before becoming the Aryan supervisor of SNCASO. On July 13, 1944—six weeks after D-Day—20 million francs were deposited into an account called ELBAG at Aerobank in Paris. Account number 1050P belonging to the Luftfahrtbedarf, or Luftwaffe Air Transport, received a credit for an additional 10 million francs. A second account number, 1050H, for the Luftfahrtbedarf was credited with a further 20 million francs. Banque Charles was then ramped up with “aero” funds.

  Karl Schaeffer said that “for Germany, the purpose of Banque Charles was to take up a financial position in a neutral zone from where it would be easier to begin afresh after the war, particularly with America.” It was precisely what Henry Morgenthau had wanted to avoid, and as the Allies breached th
e beaches of Normandy, a plan called “Project Safehaven” was launched to prevent the Nazis from setting up or benefiting in any way from a flight of its capital from the occupied territories.

  Banque Charles bought the Rococo-style Villa Millaflores on boulevard des Moulins in Monte Carlo. The sellers were Du Pasquier along with Jean Guisan and Interkommerz. The title to the property passed through SBM’s books on April 11, 1944, and was sold three months later, on July 27. In passing through SBM’s books, Szkolnikoff became part owner/seller of the property and benefited personally from the sale.

  Reichsbank director Karl Schaeffer found the first half of the 36 million francs required for the purchase, fronted from the Austrian industrialist Bernhard Berghaus, a notorious financier of the Nazi Party. Aerobank provided the rest of the money at the end of July.24 Meanwhile, Florence was seen by Allied informants coming and going from Villa Millaflores, and was mistaken as Charles’s lover, not his business partner. What they didn’t know then was that Florence was negotiating the Gould residency permits through Charles.

  Simultaneously, Szkolnikoff approached Du Pasquier with a plan to merge his luxury hotel group—the old Henri Ruhl hotels, comprising some twenty-eight properties—with SBM. It was a first step toward Göring’s personal goal of controlling the luxury hotel and casino market in France. A second acquisition of the Goulds’ fifty-odd properties would complete his goal. The textile merchant and millionaire Szkolnikoff was both the SS’s and the Luftwaffe boss’s cloak, just as Florence became Gausebeck’s.

  Still, the Banque Charles conspiracy had terrible timing. Szkolnikoff’s 614 million francs provided by the Germans, as well as the assets and cash of Banque Charles, needed to disappear quickly. Before the funds could be funneled into other investments, preferably in the United States, the Allies liberated France. Spain held both Banque Charles’s and Szkolnikoff’s only salvation.

  * * *

  The net seemed to be closing in on Florence in New York, too, when Attorney General Biddle finally agreed that the Justice Department’s lawyer, Frederick Rarig, could move toward prosecution of Chase National in January 1944. If the prosecution went ahead, it would pave the way to follow the trail of breadcrumbs left behind by Gausebeck that would eventually lead to Florence. Unfortunately for the Justice Department, Chase hired one of the smartest and “best lawyers in the country,” John T. Cahill. The Justice Department was “privately and firmly apprised” that Cahill intended to introduce into evidence that Chase officials had “cooperated directly with the Bureau, as well as Army and Naval Intelligence.” The promise that FBI secrecy, its sources and methods, as well as those of U.S. Army Intelligence, would be blown in open court was suddenly at stake. The Justice Department told Hoover he had no alternative other than to back down.25 The victory for Chase in 1944 would become one for Florence in 1945. John T. Cahill also became Florence’s lawyer.

  Still, the ups and downs of the final days of the occupation left Florence clutching for steady ground. That February, Frank took his safety into his own hands, and went into hiding with the help of Anne Marie Vilbert de Sairigné, a resistant based in Nice. He did not bother to tell his wife where or with whom he was hiding; or indeed, that he had written de Sairigné a check for $400,000 for her troubles.

  25

  LIBERATION AND TREASON

  Paris must not fall into the hands of the enemy, or, if it does, he must find there nothing but a field of ruins.

  —O.K.W./W.F.St./Op. (H) Nr. 772989/44, 23.8.44, 11 hours, order to destroy Paris

  For many, the liberation of Paris on August 25, 1944, came too late. Since the end of 1943, resistance to the occupation and general dissidence had become a real worry to the Germans. On Ribbentrop’s orders a new edict came into effect on January 7, 1944: the preventative arrest. Tens of thousands of Frenchmen and women were detained for three different types of agitation. Those who distanced themselves from Pétain’s regime or refused to cooperate with the occupiers filled the first category. Next were high civil servants within the government machinery, and last were the intelligentsia and those who spoke out against Pétain or the Germans, along with their elected officials prior to the occupation. The borders to other occupied territories were closed to prevent anyone absconding.1

  For those who survived that bitingly cold winter, the normal fat allowance for cooking had been reduced from ten ounces a month to two ounces. It had been four years since an adult had been allowed a milk ration. Children were born who had never seen a banana. Bread was rationed to six ounces daily, but that was a moveable feast. Often rations were cut as a form of reprisal for acts of resistance.2 After enduring a sub-zero winter without any heat, a snowy spring, and a summer without food, the French were in a state of desperation. Florence’s table remained, nevertheless, full of delectable treats; her home warmed by ample coal fires; and her friends maintained through her generosity.

  Léautaud recorded how he hated himself for sinking so low as to be seduced by real coffee, many cups, and a chocolate dessert that could have sufficed for his entire meal.3 Marcel Jouhandeau, one of the writers who went to Germany on the propaganda mission organized by Heller early in the occupation, was disillusioned, too. “Marcel Arland knows better than I, what one can say and when one must be quiet,” Jouhandeau wrote to Paulhan in November 1943. “His presence is perhaps all that is left by way of ‘reason’ with our friend [Florence].” A few days later, Jouhandeau dreamed he was levitating above Florence’s art gallery in the avenue Malakoff apartment. His dead mother entered, unsurprised to see him floating on the ceiling.4 To be chez Florence was to lose one’s equilibrium.

  Still, her all résistance friends like Robert de Thomasson and Marie Bell were aware, like Marcel Arland, not to trust Florence with the details of their activities. All Florence knew was on which side their baguette was buttered. While she painted a different picture of herself to the various factions frequenting her avenue Malakoff abode, both occupier and resistant had learned long before that they could count on Florence’s generosity but not her discretion. Too much champagne, drunken late-night phone calls, and the irrepressible desire to be the enfant terrible, flaunting her power and wealth, saw to that.

  Even Frank knew when not to tell Florence the truth in these dangerous times. Seemingly unaware that Frank had gone into hiding, Florence instigated a plan to “kidnap” him with the help of her résistant friends Marie Bell and Robert de Thomasson at the beginning of August, then bring him to safety with the help of the FFI* leader Captain René de Treville.5 Where safety was precisely, however, was never mentioned or explored. Events moved too quickly for them to act.

  * * *

  The D-Day embarkation had been widely anticipated by the Germans since the beginning of May. In fact, it occupied all minds—both French and German. By mid-May, the German high command felt that there had been insufficient manpower in Paris to keep its increasingly belligerent population under control, so regiments of crack Mongolian fighters* in Nazi uniforms—redolent of the “yellow hordes” of Genghis Kahn and just as terrifying—flooded the Métro and the streets of Paris, to the stupefied gazes of Parisians.6

  On the night of the D-Day embarkation, June 6, 1944, Ernst Jünger remarked that although it had been expected, the scale of the invasion took everyone by surprise. Two days later, he lunched at Florence’s. During their feast, the telephone rang and she excused herself from the table. Returning moments later, she announced to her friends, “The Stock Exchange has reopened. [Where the French played, and lost, at war], we do not play at peace.” Jünger wrote in his journal afterward that “money seems to possess the best antennae, and bankers judge the situation with more care and prudence than the generals.”7

  On June 22, Heller joined Jünger at Florence’s, announcing that his train from Berlin was attacked by enemy air fire. Jünger replied that the German embassy was packing up and preparing to leave the city. It was total chaos. Night bombs fell in the courtyard of the Hôtel Majestic, setting
alight a huge store of gasoline. Jünger discovered later that from then until the liberation, Allied bombs fell daily on the outskirts of Paris. Despite the unsuccessful attempt on Hitler’s life on July 21, Jünger remained in the French capital, visiting Florence regularly. His July 26 visit took place in the evening, but not at 129 avenue Malakoff. Instead, he called on Florence at Vogel’s apartment to get “inside knowledge” about the assassination attempt from him. Jünger bid his final adieus to Florence on August 10, since the “Americans were already at Rennes.” Florence’s good friend, the princesse Sixte de Bourbon-Parme, was also there to say good-bye to the charming German. The sighs and tears could be heard along with the rustle of satin as the women kissed, hugged, and wished Jünger safe travels, along with their sincere promises to see one another again in peacetime. By August 23, the Allies were on the outskirts of Paris.8 Peace in Paris was still days away. An eternity after four years of occupation.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, the épuration sauvage (savage purging) of collaborators had begun. The first to suffer were the collabos horizontales, or the women who slept with the enemy. Coco Chanel, though briefly jailed in August, secured her safe haven in Switzerland—many think with the help of Bendor and Winston Churchill. Arletty was less fortunate. Daisy Fellowes, that niece whom Winnaretta Singer had taken to live with her as a child and allegedly was the best-dressed woman in France, faced a different ignominy. Her daughter, Emmeline de Casteja, spent five months locked up with prostitutes in Fresnes Prison.9