Touched by Fire (18 page)

“I’m glad, Simon. Best of luck – I’ll miss you.” We shake hands. He winces. I’m an idiot, forgetting about his hands for a minute.

On my way home from school, as I’m nearing Opera Square, opposite the university, I smell fire. There is shouting and laughter. A crowd of Hitler Youth are joking around with some Brownshirts. They hurl books onto a huge bonfire.
People come from every direction, with armfuls of volumes to throw into the flames.

“Hey, kid, give us a hand,” a tall boy in uniform says, thrusting a stack of books into my arms. I mutter something about being late for my piano lesson, drop the books, and walk away as fast as I can. They’ve all gone crazy – no one burns books.

A voice yells, “When we’ve finished burning books, we’ll start on the Jews.” They start to chant, “Burn the Jews! Burn the Jews!” I run all the way home, afraid they’ll come after me. I’ve been beaten up a couple of times in the playground because I’m friends with Simon. I wish I had a bike. I wish I could go to America.

That evening at supper, my stepfather is in an unusually good mood. He leans back in his chair, smiling at Mother.

“Elsa, children, remember this day, May 10, 1933. All over Germany, throughout the night, patriotic Germans will join together to burn books that print lies. It is a great day for our country. We will not rest until every page that besmirches our great leader’s work is reduced to ashes.”

I feel cold, and my teeth chatter. Mother puts her hand on my forehead and asks Maria to make me a hot drink. “You must have caught a chill, Peter,” she says.

“You baby him, Elsa,” my stepfather says. “We’ll take Helga out to watch the book burning without him. It is a sight not to be missed.”

“If you don’t mind, dear, I will leave Helga at home. The crowds might frighten her. Go up to bed, Peter.”

Back in my room, I get into bed and huddle under the blankets. I can’t help wondering,
Will I end up like the books?
Simon is lucky to be going to France.

One afternoon, Mother has been listening to me practice the piano when she is called to the telephone. She comes back smiling.

“That phone call was from an acquaintance. She is on holiday in Berlin and has asked us to have tea with her, on Saturday, at the Hotel Adlon. As Georg will be at a rally in Munich this weekend, Maria can take Helga to the zoo. What a nice outing for the two of us, Peter.” I think it’s a treat to have a whole weekend without my stepfather. I can’t remember the last time Mother and I went out together.

On Saturday, Mother makes me wear my best suit. The Hotel Adlon is one of the smartest hotels in the city. It is right by the Brandenburg Gate and overlooks Unter den Linden, where all the parades take place. Mother gives our names to the man at the desk. We are expected, and he sends a bellboy to take us up in the elevator. The door of the suite opens at the first knock. I look up at a tall gentleman and a beautiful dark-haired lady.

“Frau Schmidt and Peter, how very nice to meet you. I am Kolya Seltzovsky, and this is my wife, Miriam – your
aunt Miriam, Peter.” We all shake hands.
I can’t believe it – my relatives from America? Why are they here, and why didn’t Mother tell me?
I hope they don’t mention my letter to them.

“I have been looking forward so much to meeting you both, Frau Schmidt,” my aunt says.

“Please, call me Elsa,” Mother replies.

In no time at all, we are seated at a round table. Beside it is a huge cake stand, laden with little sandwiches, chocolate éclairs, and fruit tarts. There is a big apple strudel and a dish of whipped cream. A waiter pours coffee and tea and brings me a glass of lemonade, before leaving us alone. I feel too shy to speak, but not too shy to eat!

After tea, Aunt Miriam and Mother exchange family photographs. They admire each other’s children. I look at a photo of the cousins I have never met, Jacob and Rachel, who are ten and eight, Aunt Miriam tells me. There are many other people in the photographs.

Aunt Miriam points to them one by one. “These are your grandparents, Peter – Samuel and Sara. Here are my dear friends Beckie and Rosie, with their husbands, Reuven and Marco, and their children. We met when we first came to America. Together, we started a clothing store for girls, called Malka’s Dresses.”

She hands Mother a card. “If you give me Helga’s measurements, Elsa, I’d be delighted to send her one of our dresses. Look, Peter, this is your aunt Devora. She was
born when your father was the same age as you. My sister designs and makes dolls. Each dress comes with a small doll, tucked into the pocket.”

“Helga’s favorite color is blue,” I tell my aunt.

“Peter resembles Yuri so much as a boy,” Uncle Kolya says.

Aunt Miriam puts her hand over my mother’s. “I know how much he loved you, Elsa,” she says. The handkerchiefs come out, and that is when the real conversation begins.
Why are they crying, after such a lovely tea?
Uncle Kolya says that I may choose some pastries to take back for Helga and me!

“Miriam,” Mother says, “after Yuri died, times were very difficult. I was left alone with a baby. There was no work, often not enough food to eat.…” Mother dabs her eyes. I have never heard her speak of this before.

“In 1927, Germany was not like it is now. When I married Georg, it seemed the right thing to do. Peter needed a father and a real home,” Mother says.

“Yes, I can see that much has changed. You must wonder why Kolya and I have come to Germany, and why we wanted to meet you,” Aunt Miriam says. Mother nods.

Aunt Miriam continues, “We are here to bring Kolya’s brother, Lev, back with us. We sail from Southampton, England, on the White Star Liner RMS
Georgic
, in three days.”

Uncle Kolya says, “I own a printing and small publishing press. My brother is an expert bookbinder and printer
of Hebrew texts. He will be a great help in my work. We have a spare ticket for Peter, if he would like to return to New York with us. That is, if you permit it and if he wants to go.”

Aunt Miriam says, “Elsa, I can only imagine how difficult it is for you to raise a half-Jewish child in Germany, at this time. There would be no problem with obtaining a visa for him. Peter is the son of a war hero and the nephew of American citizens. We would be taking him for a visit, to meet his family. Elsa, if you agree to this … holiday, Peter’s stay can be extended permanently. He would be educated with his cousins and given every advantage. We have a home in Brooklyn, New York, and a summer cottage in Maine. The children camp, swim, and ride. We all want Peter to come with us. We would do our very best to make Yuri’s son happy. We can keep him safe, Elsa.”

I’m not sure I understand.
Are they saying I can go to America?
I look at Mother.

She says, “You have taken me by surprise. I don’t know what to say, Miriam, I am overwhelmed. I had no idea.…”

“Do you mean leave, leave Germany forever?” I ask Aunt Miriam.

“I don’t know the answer to that, Peter. I think it would be for a long time, until things are different here. Now, Uncle Kolya and I are going to go out on the balcony to look at the beautiful view of the city. You and your mother can
speak in private and discuss our suggestion.” They leave us alone.

“Peter, I am sorry. You are very young to have to make such a hard decision. Yuri always regretted that he did not go to America. I loved him very much, and I love you, and whatever you decide, I will understand.”
Is Mother letting me choose?
I take a deep breath. I hope she won’t be upset. I don’t need to think about my answer at all.

“I want to go very much, Mother. I’ll miss you and Helga and Maria, of course. I’ll write to you often. Perhaps one day, you will come to America for a visit.”

Two days later, I am packed and sitting in the car between my uncle and aunt. It is the start of our long journey. My stepfather was delayed in Munich. Mother made me say good-bye to him on the telephone. We are both glad not to have to see each other again. I wave to Mother and Maria and Helga, until they are out of sight.

“Uncle Kolya,” I say quietly, so that the chauffeur does not hear me. “I saw the Nazis burn books. I stood right by the fire and watched them.”

“I know. No need to be afraid anymore, Peter. In America, we print books. We do not burn them.”

Aunt Miriam says, “When Yuri and I were children, your grandfather used to say, ‘In America, they don’t let you burn.’ ” She and Uncle Kolya look at each other and smile.

I lean back against the car’s leather upholstery and dream of all the things I will be allowed to do in America – play with my cousins, go to school and not have to sit in the back row, just because my father was Jewish. I can choose who and what I want to be.

Mother said my father wanted to go to America. I think he would be happy that I am making the journey.
I’m going for both of us, Papa
.

The End.

F
amily Markov, their friends and neighbors, and the people they encounter during their lifetime are imaginary. Their experiences in their quest for a better life are similar to those of many immigrants. Their story is played out against a backdrop of real events, side by side with the public figures of the time.

The following characters in the novel are based on themselves: Max Blanck and his wife, Bertha, Isaac Harris, Anna Gullo, Dinah Lipschitz, Isidore Abramowitz, Eva Harris, Samuel Bernstein, Louis Brown, Joseph Zito, Gaspar Mortillalo, Officer Meehan, Joseph Wexler, and Lena Goldman.

After the tragedy of the Triangle Waist Company fire of March 25, 1911, public outrage led to the creation of the Fire Investigating Commission. Two years of deliberation resulted in twenty-five new rules, which were passed into law in the state of New York. These included the following.

Max Blanck and Isaac Harris were brought to trial on December 4, 1911. Three weeks later, an all male jury acquitted them of manslaughter, in a verdict of
NOT GUILTY
. Blanck and Harris waited years before they agreed to pay seventy-five dollars for each of the 146 lives lost in the fire. However, the men’s reputations were ruined. The days of the Shirtwaist Kings came to an end in 1914, when their partnership ended.

Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party came to power in Germany in January 1933. The one-day boycott of Jewish businesses, and the burning of twelve thousand books deemed “anti-German,” began a regime of terror that ended with the death of six million Jews.

April 5, 1933, saw the arrest of many of the inhabitants of the Scheunenviertel, the Barn Quarter. On November 9
and 10, 1938, during the pogrom of
Kristallnacht
– the Night of Broken Glass – over ten thousand Jewish inhabitants of the quarter were arrested and deported. Homes, places of worship, and shops were burned and looted. The life of a once-vibrant community was erased. Street names were changed, and no trace remains of what was once there.

Thanks to the wisdom, encouragement, and patience of Sue Tate, my editor, and to the entire Tundra team for their ongoing support. Love and thanks to my family for always being there for me.

Also, my grateful thanks to
Dr. Michael Berman
Deborah Hodge
Sarah and Reuven Levine
Ellen Schwartz
Nicholas Selo
Dr. John P. Wade
A.J. Watts