Fromms: How Julis Fromm's Condom Empire Fell to the Nazis (20 page)

These transactions had to be reported to the Enemy Assets Administration in 1940. The reaction of the executives at the
Daubitz Rubber Company in Berlin-Rudow was typical of borrowers. Only after an official inquiry did they acknowledge having received from Julius Fromm, who was “reportedly in London,” a loan in the amount of thirty thousand Reichsmarks—with no set maturity date.

Fromm’s former business partners falsely claimed that they had been given the money without the expectation of paying it back as long as they themselves refrained from manufacturing condoms. Eventually they had to repay to the German Reich in full the loan that Fromm had extended to them against supply contracts.

The case of Otto Schultz, a pharmacist, affords unique insights into this matter. He ran a wholesale business at Chausseestrasse 87/88 in Berlin-Wedding, specializing in chemical photography equipment and Fromms Act products. Back in 1931, Schultz had borrowed ten thousand Reichsmarks from Fromm at an interest rate of 4 percent and used his vacation property in Zingst on the Baltic Sea as collateral. Three years later, Fromm waived any further interest payments.

When Schultz had to make a declaration to the Chief Finance Authority on April 12, 1940, he claimed that a large part of the debt had already been paid off. Some time later he demanded that at least part of the mortgage payable to Fromm be cleared. The debtor was hoping that by now, Fromm’s official status had shifted to “evacuated Jew Julius Israel Fromm.” But the Chief Finance Authority insisted on seeing proof of the alleged repayments. Schultz responded with a letter containing “explanations in lieu of sworn statements.” He contended that in September and October 1938, Fromm had released him from repaying seven thousand Reichsmarks, but shortly thereafter “left for parts unknown,” and as a result there was no written agreement.

The Chief Finance Authority insisted that the pertinent documents be produced, at which point Schultz suddenly recalled that
“the Jew Fromm” was in London. He had corresponded with him several times regarding this matter. On August 29, 1939, everything had been settled, but then—regrettably!—war broke out two days later. In late 1940, the management of the Reich postal service in Stettin expressed interest in the lovely Baltic Sea property on the Darss peninsula and wanted to use the building as a vacation center for its workers. Schultz was inclined to sell it, but in order to do so, he had to put the issue of the “Jewish mortgage” to rest once and for all on an official level. To prove that he had been released from this debt, he produced a friend named Erich Wallenhauer, who lived in Berlin-Steglitz. Wallenhauer was prepared to testify under oath that he was quoting from memory an allegedly “misplaced letter” sent by Fromm that confirmed Schultz’s version.

Bookkeepers at Fromms Act in Köpenick, ca. 1935

According to an internal memorandum in early 1943, the head of the Asset Valuation Office was inclined to let the matter rest
and accept a payment of 3,500 Reichsmarks. However, someone in the hierarchy decided to consult Schultz’s local tax office and described the case to his colleague. The answer came by return mail: “Over the years, Schultz has declared impossible profits or losses, although his sales were consistently good. He has regularly submitted requests for deferral or exemption from payment. His bookkeeping does not add up… In matters of taxation, I must deem him unreliable.”

Schultz deposited 3,500 Reichsmarks into the account of the Chief Finance Authority at the Deutsche Reichsbank and again asked that the mortgage be canceled. However, the Chief Finance Authority was unyielding, demanding categorically on March 5, and then again on April 1, 1943, that the entire debt be paid—with interest. Schultz reacted on June 19 by applying for a deferral, since he was anxious to “produce new evidence.” At this point he came up with a new addition to his string of lies, claiming that Fromm had not waived the debt of seven thousand Reichsmarks in 1939—as he had already testified twice under oath—but only of five thousand. And sure enough, nine days later the determined debtor located a “witness,” an attorney and notary named Ernst Ziehe, who confirmed “as requested” and “with a Heil Hitler salutation” that he had in his possession a letter to this effect from creditor Fromm, dated August 16, 1939. He claimed to recall the matter quite well. The Chief Finance Authority was no longer interested, and on September 2 filed a complaint at the district court in Berlin. On September 17, Schultz paid “the Jewish mortgage” to the German Reich, and on October 6, 1943, the court cleared the mortgage in the land registry.

The administrators at the Asset Valuation Office had known the true situation for quite some time, because in February 1943 they had contacted the management of the Fromms company, where a copy of the letter that Julius Fromm had written to his
old business friend from London (not in August, but in April 1939) was located right away. Fromm’s tone was polite and accommodating, and suggested that Schultz pay him six thousand Reichsmarks in two installments, and Fromm would be happy to waive the rest. But Otto Schultz had ignored the offer. “No cash payment can have taken place,” Fromms Act stated, since the expatriate “had emigrated in late 1938.”

Julius Fromm dealt with his other debtors similarly, following the principle of “live and let live.” But Otto Schultz, who had been working with Fromms Act since 1914, had the audacity to claim: “Unhappily, this Jew debt has been disastrous for me.” In actual fact, he had used the money interest-free for nearly ten years.

“J
EW
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UCTION” AS
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RYAN
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AUNT

FROMM HAD PURCHASED THE PROPERTY
at Rolandstrasse 4 for 95,000 Reichsmarks in 1919, then had it lavishly renovated and furnished. In 1933 the German Credit Bureau assessed its value “at 300,000 to 400,000 Reichsmarks.”
⁶⁶
When Fromm and his wife left Germany in October 1938, he did not sell the house, but instead arranged for Elvira Fromm (the wife of his brother Salomon), his sister Else, and her husband, Willy Brandenburg, to reside there.

Shortly before emigrating, Fromm also granted an official lifetime right of residence to Anna Frieda Schefler, who had been the family’s housekeeper for many years. When Frau Schefler died on February 19, 1943, Karl Kühne, who was still the asset administrator, promptly reported her death to Herr Kühn, the assessor at the office of the Chief Finance Authority. By return mail, Kühn appealed to the district court to revoke the right of residence and at the same time to “transfer the entire property to the German Reich, represented by the Berlin-Brandenburg Chief Finance Authority, Berlin.”

However, the Chief Finance Authority had already “entered into sales negotiations” at the end of 1942—ignoring Frau Scheffler’s legally binding right of residence and the Jewish tenants, and disregarding the fact that the property was still being held in trust as an enemy asset. On November 20, 1942, the Asset Valuation Office accepted an offer from the Berlin-Charlottenburg city councilman Karl Sommer. On December 20, the property was assessed, and on January 18, 1943, it was inspected “to determine its adaptability for Reich purposes.”

On February 13, the Chief Finance Authority notified the Reich finance minister that the house was well suited “to provide housing for civil servants,” and that Sommer had offered the full asking price of 46,000 Reichsmarks “by telephone.” Compared with the actual market value of the villa, it was a pittance. The chief councilman, Willy Bötcher, was handling this matter at the Asset Valuation Office. Bötcher and his boss, a senior government official named Hans Thulcke, indicated that party comrade Sommer was their first choice, and Sommer was eager to finalize the purchase. There were two compelling factors in his favor. For one thing, he had suffered an injury while serving the Third Reich—an unspecified injury that impaired 50 percent of the functioning of one of his limbs or other body part—and for another, the “report on his political activities,” which he was happy to enclose with his application, gave him a glowing recommendation.

The deal fell apart when the Reich finance minister registered his fundamental objections to it. “I ask that the sale of the property be refused,” instructed Walter Maedel, who was in charge of the Asset Valuation Office, and referred to a memorandum he had just issued on February 16, 1943.
⁶⁷
About a year earlier, the minister had imposed a block on sales of nationalized properties from Jews, as Thulcke was well aware. That is precisely why he had focused on the loophole offered in “paragraph 3a, clause 1 of
the decree of April 22, 1942—O 5300—443 IV,” which permitted exceptions to be made for prospective buyers if they were disabled or had distinguished political service.

This case, and many others like it, made the Reich finance minister realize that he had to draw attention to the purpose of the restrictive regulation issued in April 1942, and to tighten it up.
⁶⁸
Although both decrees ostensibly ensured that frontline soldiers could not be placed at a disadvantage as purchasers of formerly Jewish real estate, the Reich finance minister had a different motive for forbidding the sales: he wanted to force financially solid Germans to invest their money in life insurance or savings accounts, thus blocking any diversion into tangible assets. This was a deviously clever way to reinvest money entrusted to the banks or life insurance companies as war loans. In this way, the money flowed into the war chest “silently” (to use the financial parlance of the day). In addition, the Reich collected rent from the houses of those who had fled or been deported.

The former Fromm villa
,
Rolandstrasse 4, 2006