Fromms: How Julis Fromm's Condom Empire Fell to the Nazis (3 page)

In 1928, after protracted opposition, Julius Fromm had finally succeeded in his ongoing efforts to install the first condom vending machines. He promoted his product with the slogan: “Men, Protect Your Health.” The Social Democratic minister of justice, Gustav Radbruch, had prohibited wording that included any reference to sexual pleasure or pregnancy prevention. Privy Councillor Martin Fassbender, a representative of the Center Party in the Prussian parliament, warned that vending machines of this sort would inundate “young people [with] erotic stimuli.”

In 1936 Gerstein submitted a written statement in a futile attempt to avoid expulsion from the Nazi Party and consequent dismissal from civil service. This statement stressed his outstanding service on the moral front: “Furthermore, I would like to point out that I have spent years fighting against Jewish-Bolshevist attacks on the power of the German people… The minister of the interior is in possession of files relating to my years of attacks on Fromms Act and Primeros, those companies owned by the disgraceful Jewish-Galician swine, which distributed millions of free samples to very young adolescents.”

During the years of the Weimar Republic, Gerstein and his comrades-in-arms had formed a small grassroots organization with a long name, the Reichsschundkampfstelle der evangelischen Jungmännerbünde Deutschlands (Reich Anti-Smut Campaign Bureau of Protestant Young Men’s Associations of Germany). This organization published a leaflet called “Der Schundkampf” (“The Fight Against Smut”), aimed at “banning advertisements
for risqué books, sex education pamphlets, condom products, and other health-related articles” and items of that nature, and “stricter monitoring of advertisements for massage parlors and for institutes teaching foreign languages.” A similar campaign was conducted by the Volkswartbund (People’s Surveillance League), which described itself as “a Catholic association to fight public displays of lewdness.”

In 1925 the Protestant Reichsschundkampfstelle came out with a set of “Ten Commandments for Combating Licentiousness.” The third “commandment” stipulated: “Do not support any Jewish or yellow-press publications.” On May 10, 1933, this group sprang into action at the Berlin book burnings by setting aflame books it considered lewd: “While students from the Berlin School for Physical Education purged the library of the Magnus Hirschfeld Institute, the Protestant
Schundkämpfer
purged about ten municipal and seventy private libraries in a single day. There was a huge yield. It took two trucks to transport some 1,212 books (which included the worst kind of filth) to Opernplatz for the solemn conflagration. The fire set by the students is just the beginning of this purge. We will systematically continue this clean-up effort.” Buoyed by their own success in this enterprise, and by the new political opportunities that lay ahead, the devoted activists reported that “when Dr. Goebbels gave the signal to attack, Protestant
Schundkämpfer
were mobilized in more than forty German cities to cleanse public and private libraries.”
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In 1914, when Julius Fromm began manufacturing condoms in Wilhelmine Germany, men were quite bashful about asking for prophylactics at the barber shop or the drugstore. Their source was generally shrouded in mystery, and the quality dubious. But demand grew quickly. As the number of patients suffering from incurable syphilis continued to rise, the doctors sounded the alarm and sought to popularize condoms with epidemiological
arguments. In 1913, when the Reichstag debated a law to restrict “commerce pertaining to birth control methods,” the German Association for Obstetrics and Gynecology was horrified. “In our view,” wrote five prominent gynecologists in Berlin, “neither a prohibition nor even a mere limitation of the distribution of condoms can be considered, because they promote good health above and beyond their contraceptive purpose.” They went on to argue that a substantial increase in venereal disease would inevitably follow if obtaining this protective device was made more difficult. The experts did agree, though, that “public displays” of contraceptive devices ought to be outlawed.

In 1912 the Royal Prussian Ministry of the Interior investigated the causes of the decline in the birthrate and determined that “town and country” were “virtually inundated with advertising, price lists, and such, promoting items described as ‘rubber goods,’ ‘prophylactics,’ ‘sanitary products,’ etc… time and again emphasizing the ‘economic and health drawbacks that came with having too many children’ and the need to restrict the number of offspring ‘to provide better education for the smaller number of children.’” Engaged couples and newlyweds were being targeted “systematically” to receive brochures conveying the message that modern methods could help them “structure at least the first few years of marriage as pleasantly as possible.” This study also revealed that unmarried people were also being sent this kind of advertising, often in the guise of “medical or scientific” information. Moreover, these manufacturers were playing up “the harmlessness of extramarital sex.” The ministry officials concluded that once people grew accustomed to using contraceptive devices, they would be “inclined to use them in marriage.”
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These concerns on the part of the Ministry of the Interior notwithstanding, the condom gained popularity after World War I began, not only in Germany, but throughout Europe and the
United States. Venereal disease epidemics had been causing problems for army leadership even in peacetime, and during this period of modern mass warfare, conventional morality loosened and infection rates shot up. In the German infantry, the number of soldiers infected with syphilis or gonorrhea increased by 25 percent, and in the German occupying forces the rate rose by 100 percent.

German “battlefield brothel” for officers in World War I

The leadership of all armies involved in the war extolled abstinence as a soldierly virtue while acknowledging the reality of the situation. In order to maintain some control over prostitution, they set up soldiers’ brothels. Behind the front lines, existing establishments were often taken over and expanded. Near the main battlegrounds, medical service personnel improvised basic field brothels. Many of these dreary facilities made the use of condoms mandatory. A German military doctor in the Warsaw area who was given orders to open a “brothel for the members of formations that came marching through” reported in his memoirs: “The entry fee for officers was three marks; for soldiers, one mark. The price included a condom and a voucher to hand to the girl.”

Soldiers’ brothel in Galicia

In most cases the brothels for officers were kept strictly separate from those for the rank and file. The upscale bordellos featured signs announcing: “Entry forbidden to dogs and enlisted men!” Ordinary soldiers were required first to display their genitals to Neumann, the legendary medical corporal, and then to register, before joining one of the lines in front of the brothels for enlisted men. The officers were spared any inspection, and consequently the percentage of men infected with venereal disease was markedly higher in this group. Before long there was a shortage of condoms. It is no coincidence that 1916 was the year that Fromms Act began its ascent as a modern industrial enterprise.

After the war, many patients told Max Marcuse, a sexologist in Berlin, that they had become more prudent while in the army. Men from the country in particular used condoms for the first time in their lives when they became soldiers. The idea was to prevent venereal disease, and in the process they learned about family planning. Public health officials at the Ministry of the
Interior began predicting as early as 1916: “After the war, returning soldiers and other individuals, faced with uncertainty about the economic situation, will be even more inclined to use contraceptive devices, thereby preventing a rise in the number of children.” In the
Concise Dictionary of Sexology
Marcuse edited in 1923, the “widely available” condom was listed as “the safest contraceptive device, relatively speaking,” and the dictionary claimed it ought to be considered “virtually harmless for men and women.”
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The Reichstag had been considering passage of a law to combat venereal disease since 1916. After much debate, the law, which would permit the use of advertising for condoms, was slated to go into effect on October 1, 1923. At the eleventh hour, however, conservative forces were able to postpone its promulgation in the
Reichsgesetzblatt
(“Reich Law Gazette”) until February 18, 1927, and to add restrictions to paragraph 11—the crux of the law—to prohibit any public advertising of condoms. A violation of this rule could result in up to six months’ imprisonment. The only exception was advertising in professional journals intended for readers “officially permitted to do business involving these devices or objects.” On the other hand, devices “that serve to prevent venereal diseases” could be “displayed and promoted.” The condom fell into both categories—it was a contraceptive
and
a protective device.

A small advertisement in a popular magazine reading “Married couples, sanitary items, free price list!” was thus considered legally suspect even in the Weimar Republic. The German Central Police Bureau to Stem the Circulation of Lewd Pictures, Literature, and Advertisements kept an eagle eye on condom advertising to ensure that it did not become “intrusive” to the public. This special agency, which had national jurisdiction, was located at Magazinerstrasse
3–5 in Berlin, the very building where the East German State Security Service (Stasi) would later pursue its own kind of “clean living” campaign, this time of a political nature, for it was here that the Stasi compiled the notorious “Brown Book” listing “War and Nazi Criminals in West Germany.”

In view of the legal situation, condom advertising had to focus solely on protection against venereal disease. The contraceptive function was not mentioned, since the law considered language on that subject a “public incitement to indecency,” and made it punishable with a prison sentence. Consequently, the advertisement carried only this vague wording: “Fromms Act—Against Infection. Available at All Specialty Stores.”
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Julius Fromm waited until 1932 to promote the “important advantages” of his products, and even then he chose a trade journal for pharmacists:

The advertisement also assured readers that the powder used as a lubricant had been “field tested,” and contained no “harsh or irritating substances.” Shortly before that, the company had found it necessary to take out another large advertisement announcing: “Fromms Act—Advertising Permitted!” Even so, pharmacists were advised: “In the unlikely event that you experience difficulties with
the authorities, we ask you to let us know as soon as possible so that we may offer you advice and assistance.”
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