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BILL BENSON:
Good afternoon and welcome to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. My name is Bill Benson and I am the host of the Museum’s public program, First Person. Thank you for joining us. We are in our tenth year of the First Person program. Our First Person today is Mr. Fritz Gluckstein, whom we shall meet shortly.
This 2009 season of First Person is made possible though the Louis and Doris Smith Foundation, to whom we are grateful for again sponsoring First Person.
First Person is a series of weekly conversations with survivors of the Holocaust who share with us their first hand accounts of their experience during the Holocaust. Each First Person guest serves as a volunteer here at this Museum.
We will have a First Person program each Wednesday through August 26. We’ll also have First Person programs on Tuesdays through the end of July. The Museum’s website at www.ushmm.org provides a list of the upcoming First Person guests.
This year we are offering a new feature associated with First Person. Excerpts from our conversations with survivors are available as podcasts through website. Several are already posted on the Museum’s website, and Fritz’s will be available within several weeks. The First Person podcasts join two other Museum podcast series: Voices on Anti-Semitism and Voices on Genocide Prevention. The podcasts are also available through iTunes.
As most of you know, two weeks ago today, on June 10, a gunman came to this museum and tragically took the life of Officer Stephen Johns. Officer Johns, in giving his life, and his fellow officers, stopped the gunman before he could cause more horror, and harm more people. We ask you to join us in a moment of silence in honor of Officer Johns, his family, his friends, and his colleagues here at this museum.
Our First Person today, Mr. Fritz Gluckstein, will share his first person account of his experience during the Holocaust and as a survivor for about forty minutes. Depending on time, we hope we’ll have an opportunity for you to ask a few questions of Fritz. Before you are introduced to him, I have several requests of you and a couple of announcements.
First we ask that if it is possible, we ask that you stay seated throughout the one-hour program; we have a large crowd today and if you’re able to stay with us, that will minimize any disruptions for Fritz as he speaks. If we do have a question and answer period at the end of the program and you have a question, we ask that you make your question as brief as you can. I will repeat the question so everyone in the room hears it, including Fritz, and then he’ll respond to it.
If you have a cell phone or a pager that has not yet been turned off, we ask that you do that now. If you have a pass to the Permanent Exhibition today, please know that they are good for the entire afternoon so that you can comfortably stay with us through our one-hour program.
The Holocaust was the state-sponsored, systematic persecution and annihilation of European Jewry by Nazi Germany and its collaborators between 1933 and 1945. Jews were the primary victims; six million were murdered. Roma and Sinti, or Gypsies, people with mental and physical disabilities, and Poles were also targeted for destruction or decimation for racial, ethnic, or national reasons. Millions more, including homosexuals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Soviet prisoners of war, and political dissidents also suffered grievous oppression and death under Nazi Germany.
More than 60 years after the Holocaust, hatred, anti-Semitism, and genocide still threaten our world, as we so dramatically saw on June 10. The life stories of Holocaust survivors transcend the decades and remind us of the constant need to be vigilant, in order to stop injustice, prejudice, and hatred wherever and whenever they occur.
What you are about to hear from Fritz Gluckstein is one individual’s account of the Holocaust. We have prepared a brief slide presentation to help with Fritz’s introduction. And we begin with this photo of Fritz Gluckstein, who was born in Berlin, Germany, on January 24, 1927. Fritz was the son of a Jewish judge and a Christian mother, Georg and Hedwig Gluckstein. Here we see Fritz with his mother and father at the beach.
These next three contemporary photographs show places where Fritz lived, attended school, and played. As a child, Fritz enjoyed the companionship of friends and school gatherings. Here we see a picture of Fritz at a Purim party, that was taken in 1932, before Hitler took power. This was taken when Fritz was five years of age and the circle—I think you can see, right there in the middle—you see Fritz almost smack-dab in the middle of this photograph.
After the Nazis came to power, Fritz’s father lost his job as a judge. Because of his father and mother’s backgrounds, Fritz was considered Geltungsjude, a counted Jew, and we’ll explain more about that a little bit later. Here we see German troops parading in Berlin.
In 1942, Fritz’s Jewish school was closed, and he was sent to work at a Jewish cemetery. Later he was forced to work in a factory, and then he was forced to do clean up after air raids.
Throughout these difficult times, Elfride Dressler, Fritz’s aunt, provided the Glucksteins with much needed extra food, as their rations continued to decrease. Here we see a picture of Fritz with his Aunt Elfride, and this was taken after the war when Fritz was just about to leave for the United States.
At the end of the war, Fritz’s parents stayed in Germany, and Georg Gluckstein resumed his judicial career. This photo is of Fritz and his parents, taken in July 1945, just after the war’s end.
Fritz decided to immigrate on his own to the United States, and arrived in the US in 1948, where he studied veterinary medicine. We close our slide presentation with this contemporary photograph of Fritz.
Today Fritz lives in the Washington DC area with his wife, Maran. Following his arrival in the States after the war, he would eventually become a doctor of veterinary medicine. After a stint in the US Army, Fritz began a long and distinguished career with the federal government, where he became an expert on diseases that are transmitted from animals to humans, such as Mad Cow Disease.
Fritz is a self-described opera buff, and a football fan. He volunteers each week for the Museum, translating letters and other documents written in German, including hand written documents. He is among a few people able to read the old style German cursive script. He has a daughter, Ruth, and two granddaughters, one who is nearly eleven, and the other who is seven years of age.
And with that I’d like to ask you to join me in welcoming our First Person, Mr. Fritz Gluckstein.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, thank you so much for joining us and for your willingness to be our First Person today. We have a lot to cover, so why don’t we begin with you telling us about your early years? You were a young boy when Hitler came to power in Germany. Tell us about your family, your community, and about yourself in those years, living under the Nazis, before war began.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Before Hitler came to power, it was a very peaceful life. My father was a judge, a decorated veteran, had [an] iron cross—quite patriotic. He even taught me how to salute [the] flag on national holidays. I had many friends. Of course, my mother wasn’t Jewish, and I had the best of two worlds: Hanukah and Christmas, Passover and Easter. But it was very pleasant.
Then, of course, things changed once Hitler came to power.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, you mentioned your father was decorated. He served for the German Army in the First World War?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes. Actually I might point out, he lost his job. Actually, what happened, the day he had to leave they told him, “Don’t leave by the front entrance. There’s a group of Nazis marching up and down.” “Well,” said my father, “I came in by the front door, and I’ll leave by the front door.”
And I might mention, in 1935, he received a certificate and a decoration: in the name of the Fuhrer, it was a decoration given to all those who had actually served at the front. First, they throw my father out; and then afterwards, two days later, they gave him a decoration.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, we saw a picture of your Aunt Elfride.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes.
BILL BENSON:
Tell us about your larger family; did you have a larger extended family?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
No. I’m the only child. Well my good aunt Elfride really took care of us in difficult times. She arranged birthdays and bought clothes. And I must say, my mother’s relatives stood by us. And that wasn’t always the case with intermarriages.
But my father’s colleagues did not. I still remember a colleague coming with flowers: “We are so sorry, but from now on, we can’t have no contact with you.”
BILL BENSON:
One time, you told me, Fritz, about experiencing some anti-Semitism that was an experience that you experienced during the 1936 Olympics, if I recall correctly. Tell us about that.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes. Actually, around 1934, ‘35, there were signs—you could see signs around restaurants and stores—“Jews Are Not Welcome” or, if you wanted to take a trip to the suburbs, signs: “Jews Enter at their Own Risk.” And then its started on benches: “Only Jews.”
But [in] 1936, during the Olympic Games, all that disappeared. Jews could go everywhere. But the moment the Games were over, all the signs came up again.
BILL BENSON:
Do you recall other instances of anti-Semitism against yourself?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
No, actually, I was very fortunate. In 1933, I as six years old, and I had to go to school. And I went to the local grade school, Grade School Number 12. And I was very lucky. In fact, I’ve always been lucky; “Gluckstein” actually means “good luck stone.”
And in most grade schools Jewish students were harassed, had to sing patriotic songs, but in this school, they treated us like any other student. My homeroom teacher, was a member of the Party, treated me and the six other Jewish students like any other students.
Perhaps, I like to mention: the fact that someone was a Party member did not mean he was a Nazi. Let’s say, a case, if someone worked for an insurance company, and they told him, “Well, friend, you have to join, otherwise you go to Podunk Junction and no more promotions.” Two children, mother-in-law lives with him, what could he do? He wasn’t evil.
Or, the great conductor, von Karajan, he was a Party member—but he was no Nazi. But he wanted to become Generalmusikdirektor; well, he joined.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, in the slide presentation earlier, we referenced Geltungsjude, or “counted Jew.” That was very significant. Will you explain that to all of us?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes. There were two types of intermarriages: the so-called “regular” and the “privileged.” And the so-called “regular” intermarriage either were no children or the children were raised Jewish, meaning that the Jewish parent and the child had to wear the star and were subject to all rules and regulations and decrees, but usually—not always—escaped deportation.
In the “privileged” intermarriages, meaning that the children were not raised Jewish, nobody had to wear the star, and they were only subject to some of the laws and regulations.
BILL BENSON:
And for your family, you were considered in the “regular” class?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes, I was considered—I was raised Jewish so I was considered a Geltungsjude, meaning “counted as Jew.”
BILL BENSON:
As Hitler’s power became stronger, your father did make some attempts to try to get out of Germany.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes.
BILL BENSON:
Will you tell us about that?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Of course. Particularly after Crystal Night, the pogrom, we tried to leave, but of course, number one, in order to go to the United States you needed affidavits, and even if you have an affidavit, there was a waiting list. But usually by the time you go an affidavit, then you had to find passage, or to have the money. And if you didn’t have the money, you simply couldn’t go.
And usually what happened, at least we were overtaken by events. We got an affidavit, but it was too late. We couldn’t get out anymore.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, you mentioned Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass, in November of 1938. Tell us what you remember about that.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
I remember leaving for school in the morning. By that time, I already went to a Jewish school. And I saw one broken window: “What happened?” A second broken window—I realized something was wrong. I saw, already, smoke, and realized it came from a synagogue. And walking to school, all the Jewish store windows had been broken.
And it’s interesting: how did they know what windows to break? The fact isn’t generally known. About four months before the pogrom, all Jewish proprietors had to have their name in large white letters in the upper left corner of the shop window. All they had to do [was] go around, look for the white letters, and break the window. They were actually only waiting to start the pogrom.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, for those who might not know, on Kristallnacht, on November 9 and 10th 1938, these pogroms took place in cities and towns all over Germany.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes.
BILL BENSON:
Did you know, at the time, that this was happening in other cities? Did you think it was just something that was happening where you lived?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
No, we knew it was happening in other cities. In fact, it was worse in other cities. In Berlin things were somewhat better—close to the government, close to the rules and regulations. Somewhere, in small towns in the boondocks, the local police chief and the local party chief they did, quite often, follow [inaudible], acted on their own.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz at this time you were going to school, but there was a period where you did not get report cards because of, quote, “special circumstances.” What were those special circumstances?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
At the time of the pogrom, men were at random taken to a concentration camp. My father was fortunate; he escaped. And about half of our teachers were sent to the concentration camp.
Of course, our school suffered, and I remember a time of, instead of report cards, we got handed a piece of paper, stating, “Because of these special circumstances, report cards will be late this time.”
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, ten months after Kristallnacht, on September 1, 1939, Germany invaded Poland, and World War II was underway. Things changed dramatically for you after that; tell us about that.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Right. It’s actually, the first change was actually that the male Jews had to take the name Israel and female Jews had to take the name Sarah. My name became Fritz Israel Gluckstein.
And we had special identification cards, and whenever we went to an office we had to show that card, and announce in loud voice, “I am a Jew.” And every second had to come in by the number of your identification card: your name, then Jewish identification card number, and so on, so on.
Now in the war, of course, ration cards were introduced, and of course Jews got special ration cards. There was eventually no meat, no white bread, no special rations.
And furthermore, Jews were only allowed to shop between four and five in the afternoon. My mother could shop, if there was a decent shopkeeper who, if nobody was around, would say, “Let me have your family’s ration cards.”
Furthermore, we were not allowed to have radios, or telephones, and we were not permitted to buy or subscribe to newspapers. [We] handed over jewels and gold, and similar restrictions.
BILL BENSON:
Included in those restrictions were pets.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes.
BILL BENSON:
Explain that.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well we had a little dog, Tommy, a white haired terrier. And he was trained. We gave him something, gave him a snack, and said “From the Nazi!” and he didn’t take it. But if you said, you gave it to him and said, “From the Jew!” then he took it. We found a good home for the dog.
BILL BENSON:
Having to give up your dog, I just wonder if that anywhere influenced your later decisions to go into veterinary medicine.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well, I always liked [animals]. I spent my time in the zoo when I was [young, with] the animals.
BILL BENSON:
That must have been incredibly painful at that point to have to give up your pet.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes, but we were very fortunate. We found, in the suburbs, a good home. My mother occasionally went out and saw him. But of course we were not permitted to travel.
BILL BENSON:
You were, of course, forced to wear the yellow star.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
That came in 1941; we had to wear the yellow star. Father and I had to wear the yellow star; it had to be affixed right here, had to be tightly affixed. If there was a nasty policeman, he came with a pen and tried to get behind it. And so help you if his pen could get behind it; it would be difficult for you.
BILL BENSON:
When did deportations begin, the deporting of Jews to camps?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Deportations began in September of ’41. First, deportations were quite ordinary. People received notification that they were to be deported, and send lists; they had to list all their property.
And then at a certain date, police, usually regular police, came and sealed the apartment and the people had to go to collection points and from there they were deported.
Later on, as you will see, things were more spontaneous.
BILL BENSON:
During that time, your father had lost his job as a judge; you had to give up all your valuables, whatever they might be. How did the family make ends meet? How were you able to get by?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well again, my good aunt helped. I don’t know what we would have done without her. My father did voluntary work at the Jewish Community Center, giving legal advice. But we moved to a small apartment, but, well, we made due.
BILL BENSON:
You were thirteen, fourteen years of age at this time. How did your parents, if you remember, how they explained to you what was going on, or at this point you just knew?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Actually they didn’t have to explain. We all grew up very fast. We knew what was going on. And we realized things were even getting worse.
BILL BENSON:
And yet, you did grow up fast, but you were still a kid. You shared with me, kind of the mixed blessing as the Allies began bombing Berlin. From a kid’s perspective, it was a mixed blessing.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well at that time, I went to school—Jewish schools—and there was a rule: if an air raid, nightly air raid, lasted past 1 o’clock, school would start two hours late and classes would last thirty-five minutes.
And there we sat in the air raid shelter—a special one for Jews—and when it came to one o’clock we hoped. Now on the one hand, we’d like to get out of the shelter. On the other hand, well, ten more minutes, and school would be late and classes will be short.
BILL BENSON:
And it was very poignant when you mentioned on another occasion—because you had so little, collecting shrapnel was something that you did as a kid.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Oh yes. After an air raid we went around and looked for shrapnel, and then we show it off: “Look, the biggest shrapnel I’ve collected!” It was one of the recreations we had.
BILL BENSON:
You were able to continue in school until June of 1942, when schools finally closed completely. Then after that you had to go to work, and I think it was at that time that you had your first close call with deportation.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Actually, that was after. Schools closed in 1942, and after that I had to go to the cemetery.
And talking about school, actually school was an oasis. And at that time we didn’t realize that our teachers were everyday heroes. They came to teach us, in the face of imminent deportation. They lived up to their profession. We didn’t realize what they were doing, but now I realize what they did, and I owe them a great debt.
BILL BENSON:
And that’s—very powerful words, teachers as everyday heroes.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Everyday heroes. They came and really taught us.
BILL BENSON:
Tell us the significance of the final report card you received when school finished in June of 1942.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes, yes. Finally we got report cards, and I still remember, it had to be said, why was it my last report card? Why was I leaving? Well, and I quote, “Because of the ordered dissolution of the Jewish school system.”
And actually, before, some classmates disappeared. Somebody wasn’t there in the morning and we hoped, “Well, maybe he is sick.” But we knew that he probably was deported.
And the class was about thirty, and only a few survived. One came back from the concentration camp, two lived in hiding, and three were Geltungsjuden, like I was.
BILL BENSON:
You had a frightening experience, one point, when you went with your mother who was helping somebody—
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes.
BILL BENSON:
—at a collection point. Tell us what that was.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
My mother helped friends to carry luggage to the collection point, and there was Gestapo who said, “What are you doing helping those Jews? I bet you have a family at home, yes? Tomorrow they will report to a downtown collection center.”
Well the next morning my father and I reported downtown to that collection center, actually the main collection center, in an old people’s home. And they put us in a room, and the collection center, and it was commanded by the notorious SS captain from Vienna, Brunner, known for his brutality. And he used to—we were forbidden to lie down during the day, fifteen or twenty people in a room, just enough to lie down. But we were strictly forbidden to lie down.
But the regular police who guarded the building, were very decent. Whenever Brunner left his office, they came around: “Get up, get up, he’s coming!” Remarkable—had they been caught, the least of what would happen would have been the eastern front.
And, well, I was there for a week; then I was told, “You will be now interrogated by Captain Brunner.” I remember my father and a distinguished journalist prepared me for the ordeal: “Fritz, don’t be a hero, don’t show any contempt. Answer the questions fully, but don’t volunteer anything.”
I remember coming in, he was sitting behind the desk, at his side, there was sitting the Berliner Gestapo. They wanted to see, to learn how it’s being done. Well he tried to catch me: “Your mother is Jewish, no?” But, I told him that, “No, my mother is not a Jewish [woman].”
And he asked some questions, and then he said, “Well, now we are going to send you to real work. Tomorrow you report to labor exchange to get you a real job. Out.”
And he let me go, to my surprise, I found my father outside. And we stepped outside onto the street [with] a sigh of relief. The date, I remember, it was the 24th of January, ‘43—my sixteenth birthday.
BILL BENSON:
You used the phrase “collection point.” Will you say just a little bit about what that meant?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
People were—where they stayed until a certain number was assembled. Then they were put on trucks and driven to the railroad station, where they were put on cattle cars and sent to the east.
BILL BENSON:
So this Brunner, then, sends you out to start your work.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
The next day I reported to a special exchange, the labor exchange, and was sent to work at a factory, working, doing something for the Air Force. We never knew actually what it was.
But of course, what happened, came the notorious Factory Action, Fabrikaktion. Saturday morning: door opens, SS officer enters, “Everybody out!” Outside trucks, we help each other onto trucks, and then with our back to SS men, were driven downtown to a former dance hall, all the tables and chairs have been pushed aside and people were just sitting, or lying down, in the middle.
And I remember, in the evening, a good friend of mine, we worked together in the factory, Gert, were interrogated by police. Actually quite decent, actually were regular police, and they let us go—“Get out of here; we don’t want to see you again.” They shouldn’t have done that, we found later.
Well there Gert and I were, outside on the street at night, eight o’clock, and broke the law. Why? Jews were forbidden to be in the street after eight o’clock at night. That was a law given by mouth, word of mouth. Nobody, the police didn’t know about it, actually, but when I broke the law, I went home.
My father had been picked up—he worked at another factory—and brought to a much, very unpleasant collection point. When my mother happened to visit her aunt at the time in Silesia, I sent a telegram saying, “I think it would be advisable if you came back.”
Now it was at the end of the month. Somebody had to pick up ration cards. Well I set out to get the ration cards. Right in front of the ration card office, a moving van—everyone from the store [was put] into the moving van [and] sent to a collection point. It happened to be, the collection point was a synagogue where I had become bar mitzvahed, had been confirmed.
There, all those who had non-Jewish relatives were sent to another collection point, downtown, administrative building of the Jewish Community, called the Rosenstrasse. And then they put us, I remember, in the room, fifty men, no mattresses, and we spent our time speculating what would happen to us, and standing in line to use the toilet facilities, of course. The building wasn’t set up for so many people.
And what happened after a week, I was told, “Go downstairs for release” and there found my father. And we stood in line for release papers to be filled out by secretaries of the Jewish Community Center. And then we left one by one, because the papers had to be signed by the commanding sergeant, Sergeant Snyder.
And I still remember, Father ahead of me, signed his certificate, and he said, “Ah! A judge you have been! Then you’ve certainly ruined the lives of many people.” “Well,” said my father, “I hope not.” And then we left.
But what has happened while we were inside? We didn’t know it. It was a demonstration of the Jewish wives and mothers outside. They congregated and demanded the release of their husbands and children. First they had to fight the regular police. Then they had to fight the SS, the Gestapo.
They did not move. It was the only demonstration of the Third Reich. And from diary papers of Goebbels, the Minister of Propaganda and Volk Enlightenment, can be seen that he felt that was the right moment to deal with intermarriages. “Let’s wait, we can do it later”—particularly after the debacle of Stalingrad. And so we were let out.
BILL BENSON:
And so your mother had been part of the demonstration?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
My mother couldn’t get back in time. Other women were outside. We didn’t know.
BILL BENSON:
And that demonstration, the only one in the Third Reich, you said—
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
The only one.
BILL BENSON:
—was the subject of a feature film, wasn’t it?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
In fact the movie—Rosenstrasse, it’s quite interesting—[it] is not documentary, but it’s a drama, but if you have a chance it’s quite interesting, depicting the conditions, what’s going on.
BILL BENSON:
Rosenstrasse, right?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Rosenstrasse. Right now in front of the building, the building has been destroyed, there’s a now memorial, a movie memorial. They always talked about German loyalty. Well, those women—that was Germany loyalty.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz you would, of course, be sent on work details to do different things, including cleaning up after the many air raids that were happening in Berlin. What about your father at that time? What was he doing?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
After we were released from the Rosenstrasse, we were sent to work at work details, cleaning up after air raids. In the beginning my father was at a different detail; later on we came together. But no, we worked at [inaudible].
BILL BENSON:
I was struck by something you told me on another occasion when you said that, even when you were out there laboring, cleaning up rubble after a bombing raid, that there was a real emphasis on continuing your education while picking up rubble. Say something about that.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes. The older, quite a number of younger people, my former classmates, the older men said, “Well the young guys don’t learn anything; we have to do something about that.”
Well, what happened [was] they formed a kind of school. While we were waiting for the wheelbarrow to be filled up with rubble, we were given questions: geography, English, Latin, what have you. And by the time we came back with the empty barrow, we had to have the answer.
I still remember one of the questions I got. “When you come back with that empty barrow, you will name the Great Lakes of the United States.”
BILL BENSON:
Amazing, isn’t that?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Actually, at that time, I remember, we were quite protected. And the older men had to explain to us some of the four-letter words that were bandied around. We learned, they came in very handy.
One time later on, I worked at a factory in St. Paul, some nice fellows there tried to teach me certain words, hoping I would use them and embarrass myself. And I said, “That doesn’t work. Those words are of Anglo-Saxon origin, and very similar in German.”
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, at one point you were told that you had to now go work on, I think it was a catastrophic mission.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes. We were bumped out twice, and the second time we temporarily lived at a Jewish hospital, and assigned new quarters. One day I was going to work and lo and behold, outside some Gestapo—“Yo, here boy! We’re going to send you to a so-called ‘catastrophe mission’ here on that moving truck.”
In half an hour we arrived at the headquarters of Colonel Eichmann. He was the driving force behind the deportation. His headquarters building had taken a hit, and we were to clean it up.
In fact, good luck, my immediate supervisor was a young lieutenant, who didn’t belong there—always polite, no anti-Semitic remarks, perfect. Other officers were quite nasty. And there were two, what happened, the time we worked outside, and always two guards, one really nasty, always harassing us, and the other man, he changed every two hours, and I see the other man—I still see him—little guy, red complexion, never talked to us.
And whenever we took a break, he found something across the street that was of interest. That man made a point of not addressing us. I wonder how he got into the SS.
BILL BENSON:
Since you had to go and work on the bombed-out SS headquarters, after the war, you were questioned by our Office of Strategic Services about that, weren’t you?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Right. Actually once I even saw Eichmann. I remember we were working and then suddenly, “Eichmann is coming!” I always wondered, how would he look? Well there he comes: ordinary. No one would have noticed him in a crowd. And he came, right next to me, gave some instruction, and left.
When I was interviewed by the American Consulate and mentioned I worked there, they wanted to know everything. They wanted me to describe the building, give the name of everyone who was there, the officers, and so on.
BILL BENSON:
And the OSS was the forerunner of our current CIA.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Oh, yes.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, I think it’s obvious to the audience that humor is important to you. You’ve shared in the past that humor was just very important to you at that time. Give us an example of the kind of humor that you engaged in.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Yes, that kept us going; every morning we told a story. So here’s one story: Goebbels, Minister of Volk Enlightenment and Propaganda, had the bad luck to fall into the river, the Spree River that snakes through Berlin. And a young man pulls him out. And he says, “Well my fellow you saved my life. What can I do for you?”
“Well,” says the young man, “you can give me a state funeral.” “A state funeral?” “Yes. When my father finds out I pulled you out of the river, he’s going to kill me.”
Or another one: SS man says to the Jew, “I am going to kill you. But if you can tell me which one of my eyes is made of glass, I’ll let you go.” “Ha,” says the Jew, “that’s easy. It’s your right eye.” “How did you know?” “Well,” says the Jew, “It looks so human.”
And then perhaps, there’s one story, it’s based on the fact that the words rhyme, but it gives you an idea of the thinking. Hitler, Stalin, and Roosevelt get together, ceasefire, and they discuss, what is most important to win the war? What will win the war? What?
Well, said Hitler, it is die Rasse, the race. No, said Stalin, it is die Masse, the mass. Oh, you’re both wrong, says Roosevelt, it is die Kasse, the money, the resources.
And there’s one that my father always liked. You know ersatz, substitute? Everything was substitute this and substitute that. When will the war be over? Well, when the British eat rats, and the Germans eat rats ersatz, rat substitute.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, as you’ve described, the bombing in Berlin, it became more and more intense. Conditions in Berlin became far worse. Food was scarcer. Just, everything was infinitely more difficult. As the war wore on, how was your family able to continue to manage to get by, to stay relatively intact?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well, actually we lived from day to day and hoped for the best. And again thanks to my good aunt, we really… but then the end came near. Actually perhaps I should mention—I forgot a special detail.
The Russians were on German soil, the British, Americans cross the Rhine, we were detached to work and to dig, to build the foundations for a new Berlin after the war.
But just for two weeks; then we were again detached, to the southern part of Berlin to dig Panzer, tank traps. I remember we came there with a big sign stating, “An die Arbeit Chance, tot geht’s auf dem Panzer.” “Onto work, no shirking, death to panzer lurking.” And pretty proud of it.
And while we dug ditches, and put iron beams through the ground, and after more than twenty four hours they told us, “You can go home.” And before we left, we looked at our handiwork and said, “Now how long will it take the Russians to get through?
Well, we thought, thirty-one minutes. Now why thirty one minutes? The tanks will come to our obstacles, and they’ll stop. The crew will laugh for thirty minutes, and then it will take them one minute to get through.
Actually that’s what happened. Two armies came to Berlin, one from the east, one from the south. And the southern part where we did our work, the army was commanded by Marshal Konev and he got right into Berlin and the part southern and western parts of Berlin, they were spared much street fighting, so we felt that we did a little bit for the liberation of Berlin. We didn’t do a very good job, as I told you.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, the fighting for Berlin at the end was almost indescribable.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Actually, how did we know the end was near? We were close to SS barracks, and what did we see? There were trucks pushed by the SS. Well we knew. If the SS, if they don’t have any gasoline, then the war will be over soon.
And so it happened. Pretty soon we couldn’t go to work; we actually stayed at home. And shells came in. Of course there was no water, no heat. We had to go out to get water. Berlin still had many horse-drawn vehicles. There were pumps in the street. You had to go out and get water.
And you talk about good luck. One day I had two buckets and I was waiting for a lull in the shelling to go out to the pump. A shell came down right next to me, killed—well, I’m still here. I survived.
But even at that time, even five minutes to twelve, Goebbels sent out papers, green paper—that sized—stating, “Berlin remains firm. Just like Napoleon met his defeat at the gates of Moscow, the Russians will meet their defeat at the gates of Berlin.”
But, fortunately this did not happen.
BILL BENSON:
When did you know, for sure, that you were safe?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well, I remember, I was—at that time we already lived in the cellar. I went out to try to get some bread. I came back and the Russians were outside the building. And of course we had to persuade them that we were not Nazis. All Jews were [inaudible], but we lived with some other Jewish couples, and we all had to move together.
So we persuaded them that we were Jewish and we realized, well, we had survived the Third Reich.
BILL BENSON:
So the Russians weren’t believing that you were Jews?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
We had to persuade them that we—well, look, a young man could have been a Nazi out of uniform.
BILL BENSON:
Right, right. What was it like to try to survive once the war was over, amidst the rubble of Berlin?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well of course, it wasn’t everything rosy. Berlin was destroyed—no electricity, no heat, we had to go out to the woods to get our own heating wood. And one week, or one month, the Russians took care of the food supply, dark bread; the next month, the western powers took care of the food supply, white bread.
At that time we moved out to a suburb. We were lucky because we could grow beans in the front and tomatoes in the backyard. We had a front yard and a backyard. And of course at that time, the first care packages arrived.
[They were] very welcome because the currency at that time was cigarettes. If you had cigarettes, you had it made. So I remember, we looked for—all brands of cigarettes were welcome, but Camels, the most valuable, and I still remember Lucky Stripe, and what was it, Old Gold, and even Raleigh. But this was absolutely the currency.
BILL BENSON:
And you could barter with that?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
I remember when I left for the United States, before we entered the boat we were told, “Ladies and gentlemen, once you set foot on the boat, a cigarette is just a cigarette.”
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, did you ever consider taking your revenge on the Germans?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Oh, yes. We said, “Oh wait a minute, when that’s over, that so-and-so and so-and-so and so-and-so, we’re going to get him.” Well, once it was over, we didn’t lower ourselves to their level. No, we didn’t do it.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, why don’t we do this: why don’t we stop for the moment? There’s some more things I’d like to ask you, but I’d like to give our audience a chance to ask you a few questions as well if you don’t mind.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Sure.
BILL BENSON:
So why don’t we do that for a little bit and then we’ll close up our program. And remember, make it brief if you can, I’ll repeat it; then Fritz will respond to it. Yes, sir.
Question is, what made you decide to go to the United States, and if you’d stayed would you have been under the Russian domination?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
No, actually we happened to be in the American sector. But I felt, after the war, that it wasn’t my duty to rebuild Germany. And before I left, my father told me, “Look,” he said, “If I were ten years younger, your mother and I would go with you. But what can I do over there? The law is completely different, based on old English law. Here it’s based on old Roman law. I can’t practice my profession. But you go.”
But he said, “Fritz, I hope that you choose a profession that is not limited to one country, like law.” Well I didn’t; I became a veterinarian. [51:09]
BILL BENSON:
And to your question, Berlin was divided up into different sectors.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Russian, American, French. And fortunately I lived in the American sector.
BILL BENSON:
Yeah. Okay, do we have another question? Yes ma’am, over here.
The question is have you been back to Germany?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Oh yes, I went back to show my daughter, and actually twice; my first wife passed away in ‘93, my second wife and I went over there.
Well I go over there, and the beer is nice, and the opera is nice, but after ten days, I’d like to go home. Home is here.
BILL BENSON:
Yes sir?
The question is, how did you maintain your faith in God and will you share a little bit about that?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well I tell you, my faith in God—yes I believe this. But you see I sometimes I wonder, you see, “eysa aynai el he-harim, m’ayin yavo ezri” “I lift my eyes to the mountains; from where will help come?”[ Psalms 121:1] Or, “adonai ro’i, lo echsar” “God is my shepherd; I will not want.” [Psalms 23:1]
And it’s difficult for me. I translate letters, and people are full of hope. “We will be united after the war.” But I know that they died miserably. And I often want to know, why, when I am not any better, why did it happen to me?
I sometimes wonder how it could have been. But I know the world was not created at random. I know this.
BILL BENSON:
Yes, ma’am.
The question is: how much did you know, or how aware were you, of what happened to those that were deported, and what was happening, really, in the rest of Europe?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
We realized—well, first, actually we were ready for deportation. We had rucksacks. Well in the beginning we thought they were resettled in Minsk, in the east. And actually in the beginning you could write letters, postcards, even send some food.
But after a while there was no communication and we knew something bad was happening. We realized that something—we were not aware, of course, of the actual crematoriums and the gassing. We didn’t know. We only knew something bad was happening.
BILL BENSON:
Fritz, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. One is you told us about spending your sixteenth birthday being interrogated by the SS. How did you celebrate your twenty-first birthday?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Twenty-first was on the boat to the United States. I remember.
BILL BENSON:
A very different celebration.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
A different celebration, right.
BILL BENSON:
And we know a little bit, that you are an opera buff. Tell us how you got your start as an opera buff.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Well, Jews were not permitted to have radios, but I had a crystal set. The younger ones probably don’t even know what that means. You didn’t need electricity, earphones. I had it under my bed and I used to listen to reports. They used to announce air raids and if they said, no planes over Germany, you knew we might have half a quiet night.
And one night they said, “Tomorrow we will broadcast the performance of an opera, taped.” The Germans were way ahead in the taping of music and communication [disruption in recording at 55:33]. Well I said, “If there is no air raid, I will listen for half an hour to see what it is like.” I knew my father and mother loved opera.
Lo and behold, it started out—lucky, no air raid—it was Italian, Puccini’s Tosca, performed in German, and diction was very good. And I listened. I could follow the action. And not thirty minutes, I still was listening after an hour, two hours.
And at the end, when Tosca jumped over the ramparts, and actually I more or less was hooked. I became an opera buff. Now, thanks to the insistence of my good wife, we have subscriptions—outrageous prices, but.
And I’ll tell you else, something that might surprise you that I do. I am, as you mentioned, I am an opera buff. Saturdays I sit, watch the football game, silently, and listen to the opera.
BILL BENSON:
We should try that! Fritz, your father and mother chose to stay in Berlin, and he resumed his judicial career. Two questions: how did they fare after the war, staying in Germany, what was their life like after that? And, to your knowledge, how many Jews remained—one, were still alive in Berlin, and how many remained in Berlin after the war?
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
Actually, most of the younger people left. Perhaps the ones who were in the so-called privileged intermarriages, probably most of them stayed. The others I would say, very few remained
My father stayed for the reasons I mentioned. Actually he took up his duties again. The Nazi time was counted for retirement, seniority, and actually they moved to a quite decent apartment. Of course, my mother was sorry I left, that I had to leave, but realized that the future was not in Germany.
BILL BENSON:
Right. Fritz—we’re going to bring the program to a close in just a minute. I’m going to turn back to Fritz to close our program, but first I’d like to thank all of you for being here with us today, and of course to thank Fritz, and we will hear a little bit more from Fritz before we end.
I’d like to remind you that we’ll have a First Person program each Wednesday until August 26, and each Tuesday through the end of July. So our next First Person program will be next Tuesday, which is June 30th, when our First Person will be Mr. Isak Danon, who’s from Yugoslavia.
His town fell under the control of the Italians early in the war. In 1943, after the fall of Mussolini, Isak and his father were forced to flee their town as German troops advanced. They traveled with partisans through the mountains, eventually reuniting with his mother and two sisters.
In 1944, Isak and his family came to the United States, and Isak would later join the United States Army.
I’d like to remind you that you can listen to podcasts of excerpts from our conversations on the Museum’s website, as well as through iTunes, and you can also listen to the full recording of a number of the conversations we have on a weekly basis. I’d like to invite you back another time, hope you can do that, either this year or next year.
It’s our tradition at First Person that our First Person has the last word. And before I turn it back to Fritz for the last word, after we’re finished, Fritz will step down off of the stage if any of you would like to ask a question or just say hi to him, please absolutely feel free to do that. So we’ll be right over here on our right side.
So with that, I’d like to close with Fritz.
FRITZ GLUCKSTEIN:
It has been my good fortune to have come to the United States, and I am forever grateful for the help received and the opportunity given to me. I value my American citizenship most highly.
I’m often asked what I have learned from my experience, and it’s always the same. Don’t do unto others what you don’t want done to yourself. And then, don’t put things off. Make that visit. Make that call. Write that letter. If you have a dream, go after it now. If you have two bottles of wine, drink the better one first.
