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From 30 January 1933, the date of Hitler's rise to power, until 1 September 1939, the outbreak of World War 11, France was the most popular country of exile for refugees from Nazi Germany. There are a number of reasons for its popularity.1 First, the country had an excellent record of granting asylum to the political dissenters of other nations. Second, it shares a long border with Germany. Finally, most refugees did not want to go too far away into exile, at least not during the early part of the Nazi period, because they hoped soon to be able to return to their homeland. How illusory this was did not occur to many until they either faced the threat of death from their approach- ing Nazi enemies or realized the need to flee even further with little likelihood of ever returning home. Since there were so many German- speaking (as well as other) refugees in France, and a large number of them were writers, we have a wealth of information about this period of exile history, which reached a dramatic climax in the summer of 1940, when what had been an asylum suddenly turned into a trap.
In addition to an abundance of biographical and autobiographical information, there are also a few major studies which treat the French exile of German-speaking refugees from a scholarly perspective.2 The present study deals with five German-speaking intellectuals who lived in France during the 1930s and who, on account of their Jewish ethnic heritage and their political opposition to the Nazis, were facing mortal danger in 1940, when their host country succumbed to German aggression. While a list of similar people could easily be drawn that included the writers Lion Feuchtwanger, Walter Mehring, and Hans Sahl, I have intentionally chosen different figures to show the great diversity of the German-speaking exiles in France.3 Each exile's life was, of course, unique, but it is possible to group the kinds of experiences that the several thousand German-speaking intellectual refugees had into several categories, and these are represented here by the five writers Walter Benjamin, Berthold Jacob, Alfred Kantorowicz, Rudolf Leonhard, and Victoria Wolff.
Before investigating these specific cases, let us briefly summarize the historical background, especially as it reflects official French policy toward German and Austrian exiles. In 1933, when the first wave of refugees came across the French border, Austrian and Czech citizens needed nothing more than a legal passport to enter the country, while the holders of German passports also had to have a visa. Although there seems to have been no problem for most German citizens in obtaining a visa from any of the French consulates in Germany, many had to flee so precipitately that they had no time to apply for one and consequently were forced to cross the border illegally.
Once in France, the refugees were required to obtain an official identity card if they wished to remain for more than two months. One of the conditions for obtaining this card was proof of legal entry into France. This vicious cycle, and also the fear of expulsion, forced many refugees to go into hiding. Thousands were nonetheless expelled, and those illegal refugees who remained unnoticed were able to do so primarily because of the bureaucratic system of the French police and immigration authorities, which was too slow and inefficient to catch up with them.
Control over the refugees was severely tightened in October of 1934 following the assassinations of both the visiting Yugoslav king and the French foreign minister by Croatian nationalists who had entered France illegally. A quickly growing xenophobia seized large parts of the French population and, in certain circles, combined with expressions of antisernitic feelings against the "Judeo-Boches" from Germany. On 6 February 1935 a law was passed to the effect that the refugee's identity card was henceforth only valid in that administrative district in which the holder lived, and that a special police permit was required for a refugee to be able to change his/her residence in France.
The official French attitude toward the refugees relaxed in 1936 under Leon Blum's government, which consisted of French socialists and French Communists. Blum was one of the chief French spokesmen of the international popular-front movement whose antifascist goals and enlightened views were shared by many German-speaking refugees. The most important new ruling was that anyone falling into the category of "refugee" under the definition of the Geneva Convention was entitled to receive an identity card and also the "Titre de voyage," a sort of French passport for foreigners.
Unfortunately, this propitious period for the refugees ended at the same time as did the popular-front cabinet of Leon Blum, in the spring of 1938, less than one month after Hitler's annexation of Austria. The latter event also caused a large new wave of German and Austrian citizens to seek asylum in France; and the new French government under Prime Minister Daladier issued a number of regulations directed against the refugees, among them a huge fine in the case of illegal entry into France. The French borders were repeatedly closed to foreign refugees. Because of the many illegal entries into France, a special camp was established at Rieucros in the district of Lozere for those who were caught. The same camp was used after 1940 for the internment of foreign women in France. The first massive internment of German and Austrian exiles, chiefly men, occurred on 4 September 1939, three days after the German invasion of Poland. Although many of these people were released during the next few months after tedious investigations of the legality of their papers and of their political beliefs, by year's end there were still about 8,000 refugees in the French internment camps.
In May 1940, when Hitler launched his Blitzkrieg in the West, the German and Austrian refugees were again interned, this time both men and women and under much more restrictive and humiliating conditions. With the rapid advance of German troops, many camps had to be evacuated and the prisoners in them transferred either to new camps that had been quickly erected or to older camps in southern France. There were altogether more than 100 refugee internment camps, but Gurs for women and Le Vernet for male leftists-which have correctly been called concentration or prison camps-were the most feared for their terrible conditions and for their less-than-human treatment of the prisoners. Most camps were maintained until France's liberation by the Allies in 1944.
In addition to the abominable conditions in the internment and concentration camps, what later caused even greater concern and danger to the prisoners, as well as to those refugees living in hiding, was Article 19 of the armistice agreement between Germany and France, according to which any German national living in nonoccupied France and wanted by the Germans was to be turned over to them. Thus many German and Austrian refugees who had escaped the Nazis in their homelands and who had also managed to flee from the advancing German army met the fate that later affected thousands of Jews living in France-deportation and murder. In late 1942 the Germans moved into the previously unoccupied areas of France and thus captured many people who until then had escaped them.
The loss of life among the German-speaking refugees during World War 11 would have been even greater had not a number of relief organizations assisted them in their attempts to escape from the trap in France. The three most important French organizations were the Comite national de secours aux refugies d'allemands, the Comite d'accueil et d'aide aux victimes de l'antisemitisme allemand, and the Association universelle pour les exiles allemands. But American committees were also present, and their importance grew after the German invasion of France with the resulting need for the refugees to be evacuated from the European continent. Three organizations were particularly active: HICEM, HIAS, the American Friends Service Committee, and the Emergency Rescue Committee. Much has been written about the latter group and its activities in Marseilles between 1940 and 1941, when a small group of courageous people around Varian Fry arranged for a few thousand illegal, and sometimes very dramatic, escapes of especially endangered European intellectuals to the United States.4
The first refugee intellectual on whom we will focus is Walter Benjamin. He left Germany on 18 March 1933 and spent some time on the island of Ibiza before settling in Paris in the fall of 1933. Formerly one of the major intellectual forces behind the Frankfurt School for Social Research, in France he continued to write for the Zeitschrift ffir Sozialforschung after the school itself was forced to relocate to New York City. During the first few years of his exile, he also undertook trips to visit his former wife Dora in San Remo on the Riviera and Bertolt Brecht in Denmark.
Gradually, however, his financial situation worsened to the point where he could hardly afford the subway fare from his room in Paris to the Bibliotheque Nationale, where he had to work in order to do research for his theoretical and philosophical writings on art. The hardship of this situation was pointed out by Gershom Scholem, his long-time friend, who said that Benjamin sought the same kind of consolation in his literary work that Jews have always found in the Holy Scriptures during times of persecution.5 He was unsuccessful in his attempt both to get an immigration visa to the United States and to become naturalized in France. Despite the latter failure, he repeatedly expressed a great liking for his host country; on the other hand, his antipathy to the Anglo-Saxon world did not prevent him from taking English lessons, just in case he were granted an American visa.
His letters from 1939 reflect a severe financial and psychological crisis with attendant loneliness and existential fatigue, to the point of contemplating suicide.6 In September of that same year, he was interned in a camp in the district of Nievre, where he gave a course in philosophy for the fee of three Gauloise cigarettes per pupil. He was released in November following the intervention of Jules Romains and the French Section of the PEN Club. By now Benjamin had completely revised his views on Communism, no longer seeing it, as he had before the Hitler-Stalin Pact, as an effective weapon against fascism. His considerations along this line led to his last major work, the essay "Ober den Begriff der Geschichte," which he completed in Paris during the early months of 1940.7
The following summer he successfully fled before the conquering German troops and, after a brief sojourn in southern France, passed the Spanish border on a 12-hour hike across the Pyrenees. When he and the other people in his party arrived at the Spanish border town of Port Bou, they went to the police station to get their entry stamps and learned that the Franco Government had just prohibited further transit to foreigners sans nationalite. Since this applied to Benjamin and the other members of his group, they were only allowed to spend the night in Port Bou and then were to be sent back to the French border. During this night of 26 September, Benjamin ended his life by taking a large amount of morphine.
A lady who was in the group paid for his burial and grave site, but it is most unlikely that the isolated, fenced-in grave with his name on it which Hannah Arendt later found in Port Bou was anything more than the invention of a cemetery keeper desirous of attracting tourists. Most likely, the exact spot where Benjamin lies buried will never be known. However, anyone who knows Port Bou will readily agree with Arendt that it is "one of the most fantastic and most beautiful places."8 Thus an uncertain, exotic location has become the last resting ground for one of the great thinkers of our century, whose belief in the values of free human beings and of a humanistic society lives on in his writings.
While Benjamin died in fear of being turned over to his German persecutors, another German exile actually experienced this fate twice. This was Berthold Jacob, who had aroused the hatred of the Nazis long before Hitler came to power. Jacob had published several antimilitaristic articles in Die Weltbuhne during the Weimar Republic and, with one of them in particular, caused the dismissal of the German Chief of Staff, General von Seeckt. Having a justified fear of reprisals, he left Germany in 1932, when he sensed the future direction of German politics.
During the next few years he worked as a correspondent for an independent press service in Strasbourg and continued to write against fascist politics. Consequently, he found his name on one of the early lists of persons who were deprived of their German citizenship by the Nazis. But the Gestapo also wanted to bring Jacob back to Germany and for this purpose hired someone whom Jacob knew and personally trusted. What Jacob did not know was that his former friend, a man named Wesemann, at whose wedding he had served as best man years before in Leipzig, had in the meantime become a Gestapo agent. Wesemann approached Jacob in Strasbourg and told him of allegedly secret German arms deposits in the Saarland which he wanted to show him so that Jacob would be able to write about them and, in doing so, cause the Nazis great embarrassment. In 1934, when this happened, the Saar Region was still semiautonomous, so that it was easier to kidnap Jacob there and to take him back to Germany than it would have been in France.
Jacob accepted Wesemann's invitation but was cautious enough to alarm the police of the Saarland, who met them at their arrival. Although Wesemann had to find a plausible excuse when the German arms deposits could not be found, and also had to abandon his plans of kidnapping Jacob on this occasion, he was more successful the following year. This time he invited Jacob to the Swiss border city of Basel, under the pretext of being able to supply him with a false German passport and the possibility of opening up a branch of the Strasbourg Independent Newspaper Service in England. Jacob accepted the invitation because he was legally stateless and also interested in going to England. When the two men met in a small hotel in Basel close to the German border, a third person joined them who was supposed to fill out the false passport, but who insisted that for this purpose they had to go to his apartment. He also showed Jacob a few empty forms.
After first consuming a good deal of alcohol, which may also have been used to drug Jacob, the three men got into a taxi whose driver, like the supposed passport forger, was a secret Nazi agent. He immediately drove full- speed across the German border where the border gate had already been opened for them. Jacob was arrested at once and taken to Berlin, but he later had to be released because of a strong protest from the Swiss government. The Swiss police also arrested Wesemann, who, after kidnapping Jacob, had visited a girlfriend in Switzerland, at whose home they elicited his confession.
In 1941 Jacob and his wife were successful in crossing the Spanish border with the help of false documents supplied to them by Varian Fry in Marseilles. As they were trying to cross the Portuguese border, they were arrested by Spanish police and put into a Madrid prison. Fry heard of this in Marseilles and from there immediately alarmed the Unitarian Service Committee in Lisbon, which was able to get the Jacobs released. The couple then made it safely to Lisbon and waited eagerly for their American visas. One day, however, as Jacob was alone walking back from the office of the Unitarian Service Committee to their temporary lodging, he was again arrested, this time by two Portuguese secret policemen who were accompanied by a man speaking Portuguese with a foreign accent. Jacob was sent back to Madrid and from there to Berlin, where he perished in a Nazi prison on 26 February 1944. He will always be remembered for his many anti-Nazi writings, foremost among them his well-timed exposure of Germany's military dictatorship in 1936.9
Another writer who was high on the German list of wanted people was Alfred Kantorowicz. Having attracted the Nazis' hatred both as a Jew and a political leftist, he was forced to flee Germany early in 1933. Living in French exile during the following years, he contributed to the Braunbuch fiber Reichstagsbrand und Hitlerterror10 and in 1934 became one of the cofounders of the German Writers Organization in Exile. From 1936 until 1938 he fought as a volunteer on the side of the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War; and because his picture was published in a prominent Spanish newspaper, he stood both on Hitler's and Franco's lists of enemies after the defeat of the Republican troops. This meant that he could not, as so many other German and Austrian intellectuals did, flee Europe via Spain and Portugal.
After the outbreak of the war, Kantorowicz was interned in a camp consisting of primitive barracks near Toulon and later brought to the brickyard camp of Les Milles near Aix-en-Provence. The very crowded and unsanitary conditions of this camp have been described in great detail by Lion Feuchtwanger,11 who, like Kantorowicz, was interned there twice. While in 1939 the periods of their internment overlapped by only one day, in 1940 they came in the same car from Sanary-sur-mer, a small resort on the Riviera nicknamed the "Capital of German Literature" during the exile period of the 1930s.
Many well-known German intellectuals were also interned at Les Milles in 1940.12 Their stay came to a dramatic end shortly before the armistice when the German troops were pushing close, and a large number of the internees were transported on a long freight train to the harbor town of Bayonne on the Atlantic Coast. Kantorowicz wrote how this trip almost ended in chaos because, upon their arrival, a rumor immediately spread that the Germans had beaten them to Bayonne. The false information was the result of a misinterpreted phone call made earlier that day by the French leader of the transport who reported that he was arriving with two thousand "Boches." Soon thereafter, the armistice was signed between Germany and France, and the refugee prisoners were taken back to the Mediterranean coast to be interned in another camp near Nimes. On their way from the train to the camp, Kantorowicz managed to escape. He fled to Marseilles and for some time lived illegally in a small harbor bar. His greatest problem then was to procure a marriage license for himself and his companion of many years, who was living in the nearby town of Bormes. They were both granted Mexican visas' but since the only way to go from France to Mexico was via New York, they also needed United States transit visas, which Kantorowicz got from the American Consulate because of his special status as an endangered intellectual, but which his companion could only get if she was married to him. They had learned earlier in Paris that it was impossible to obtain a marriage license in France without a birth certificate, which neither of them had been able to take along on their hurried escape from Germany in 1933.
Finally, a kind civil servant in Marseilles helped them by circumventing the French law and entering their marriage as a fait accompli in the local registry. But early in the morning after their wedding night, Kantorowicz was arrested in his bed, because the registration of his marriage had alerted the French police. He was on their list of wanted people because of his escape from the internment camp. Released after approximately four weeks, he was able to get the rest of his papers for his and his wife's voyage to New York, but on the evening before their expected departure, when they went to the harbor master to get the last required stamp on their travel documents, Kantorowicz was again arrested. He encouraged his wife to leave without him, but when he was brought before the military commander of the harbor and could refer to a French officer with whom they were both acquainted indirectly, the commander tore the arrest warrant into shreds and issued the necessary stamp.
Hours later, the two newlyweds departed from Marseilles in the hold of a freighter. They were interned once more on the island of Martinique, and had a brief stopover in the Dominican Republic, but finally arrived safely in New York. Instead of proceeding from there to Mexico, they were allowed to stay in the United States, from where they returned to Germany after the war. The odyssey of Kantorowicz's escape from France and his unbending antifascism have been recorded in his book, Exil in Frankreich; Merkwurdigkeiten und Denkwurdigkeiten.13 When the author died in Hamburg in 1979, he was still a kind of exile, since he had earlier emigrated from East Germany.
A close friend of Kantorowicz and a person of similar political persuasion was Rudolf Leonhard, who also returned to Germany after the war. But unlike Kantorowicz, he had already lived in France for six years when Hitler came into power, and he had a firsthand knowledge of both the French language and French culture that helped him survive in France during the war years. Leonhard lived in Paris and helped Kantorowicz in the founding of the German Writers Organization in Exile in 1934. After the outbreak of World War II, Leonhard made plans for a program of antifascist radio broadcasts from France to Germany, which became known to the French government. Branded a Communist, he was interned in the French concentration camp in Le Vernet from October 1939 until November 1940. Then he was transferred to the camp at Les Milles but was able to escape from there soon thereafter. Ready to leave France in the coal bin of a ship bound for Mexico, he was caught and brought back to Le Vernet, where he again experienced all the hardships of this notorious French concentration camp.
In Le Vernet, Leonhard wrote several hundred poems that reflect his views on camp life and his strong antifascist sentiments. Some of these poems and also his play Geiseln (Hostages), written in Le Vernet during the year 1940- 1941, were smuggled out of the camp and thus saved from destruction.14 In December 1941 Leonhard was taken to a prison at Castres, where refugees whom the Vichy regime was supposed to turn over to the Germans were incarcerated. In September 1943 a massive outbreak occurred at the prison during which Leonhard and several others managed to escape. He recorded the story of the prisoners' tricks used to free themselves and of his subsequent experiences as a fugitive roaming through the French countryside in "Mein literarisches Meisterstulck" (My Literary Masterpiece).15
On the second day of his escape, Leonhard ran directly into the hands of two gendarmes, who at first captured him but then let him run away because he persuaded them that they were fighting for the same cause. After a period of hiding in a monastery, Leonhard joined the French resistance movement in Nice and Marseilles. Using a nom de guerre, Robert Lanzer, he wrote anti- Nazi pamphlets in both German and French. In 1944 he returned to Paris and in 1950 to East Berlin, where he died three years later. Though his books are now chiefly published in the German Democratic Republic, readers of a different political persuasion will always admire the consistent pacifism and down-to-earth humanism that characterize Leonhard's life and work.
My final case in this spectrum of anti-Nazi exiles is a woman, so that my study conforms to the four-to-one ratio of male to female refugees in France during the later 1930s. Victoria Wolff was named Victoria Trude Victor when she was born in the German city of Heilbronn in 1908. She left Germany with her two children in 1933, when she was told that she would no longer be able to publish her writings because of her Jewish background and religion. After six years of exile in Switzerland, she spent two years in France and, in 1941, was able to flee to the United States, where she has lived in Beverly Hills, California, for most of the time since her arrival, after a brief sojourn on the East Coast.
Victoria Wolff has published most of her works (primarily novels and short stories) under her married names (spelled with one "f" after her first marriage in Germany in 1927 and with two "ff"s after her second marriage in America in 1949), but she used the penname Claudia Martell for her novel entitled Keine Zeit ffir Trdnen, which contains a fictionalized account of her escape from France.16
The plot of this novel can be used not only to trace Wolff's biography during the two years of her French exile (always keeping in mind, however, that only some of the circumstantial information and not all the heroine's experiences are autobiographical), but also to understand women's role during this crucial period of Germanspeaking exile in France. While the husband of Ann Vernelle, as the book's protagonist is called, is fighting in the French Army against the Germans, she lives with her two teenage children in southern France and hopes to find a way for herself and her family to emigrate to America. Her torn feelings (on the one hand, gratefulness to her present host country and on the other hand, joyful anticipation of the future) are symbolized by her cooled-down love for her husband Paul and by her growing inner passion for an American journalist named Colin, who is trying to aid her with her emigration plans.
The action of the book actually sets in after Ann and her children have been released from a French prison, where they had been put under suspicion of German espionage. The autobiographical basis becomes obvious when one reads a short story that Victoria Wolff published under her name entitled "Guilty without Trial."17 In it she relates her and her children's sudden arrest as alleged German "spies" and their subsequent imprisonment, a period of great hard ship which she has characterized as "the most dreadful time" of her life18 and which was only ended by the general bureaucratic confusion accompanying the armistice on 26 June 1940.
The novel shows how Ann's problems and her battle with French bureaucracy continue after her release from prison as she tries to assemble the necessary documents for their emigration to the United States. What adds to her predicament is the situation of her husband who, after having been discharged from the French Army, goes into hiding when the police of the Vichy regime try to arrest him. Paul is illegally waiting in a village near the Spanish border while Ann is making the final arrangements for their escape from France at the administrative offices of Nice, Marseilles, and Aix-en- Provence. The author writes, "The journey into freedom was a series of unhappy, sordid, wearing, and miserable steps. It lasted for ten days. Looking back, it was a sleepless eternity, which was cruelly kept alive by police officers, arrests, gangsters, German uniforms, and border police. But what mattered, was the goal, not the journey."19
When Ann and her children and, separately from them, also Paul finally reach the port of Lisbon where the tickets for their transAtlantic crossing are already waiting for them, they look back upon their escape from France as a miracle. To be sure, Ann's reunion with Colin in the United States does not last long, for he has meanwhile joined the Navy and is later killed during a battle in the Pacific. But, after a period of adjustment in America, Ann gets divorced from her husband and thus severs her final tie with the past. This can easily be understood as symbolic of the successful adaptation not only of Victoria Wolff herself but also that of many other German and Austrian refugees who arrived in North America during the years of Nazi terror in Europe.
Surveying these five cases of German-Jewish intellectuals trapped in France in 1940-1941, we see five different types of experience. Almost without exception (e.g., small children and old people), all refugees were temporarily detained in French camps or prisons and were faced with the danger of being captured by the Nazis. The first two of the individuals discussed did not survive the Third Reich: Walter Benjamin, because he chose to end his life when, after a long period of despair and deprivation, he had reason to believe that he would be turned over to the Nazis; Berthold Jacob, because he was captured and subsequently murdered by his enemies. The three others escaped the trap in France through what might be called a unique sequence of great luck and coincidence. Alfred Kantorowicz and Rudolf Leonhard experienced the continuous nightmare of long camp and prison stays with stretches of running and hiding between their periods of detention. While the one ended his long odyssey of escape from Nazi Europe in the safe harbor of New York, the other outlived the danger hidden in police-ridden French cities. Victoria Wolff, the only woman among the reported cases, typifies both female victimization in the trap and female resourcefulness in being able to arrange for her own as well as for her family's escape from it. To some degree, it may be true what Wolff has said in different passages of her exile novel, namely, "men have a harder time than women in times of crisis," and "women are better equipped to endure catastrophes. They are more down-to-earth, more practical and more flexible or, God knows, what. . . "20 Whatever the reason may be for the difference, if there is one, let us not forget the suffering of all exiles who were hunted through Europe by the Nazis and let us uphold the ideals and conditions of life for which these people fought.
This article is an edited version of a lecture delivered on 28 April 1985 at the Jewish Museum, New York, as part of the symposium "Artists and Intellectuals in Nazi- Occupied Europe," organized in conjunction with the exhibition "Art and Exile: Felix Nussbaum, 1904-1944."
1. Cf. Walter A. Berendsohn, Die humanistische Front: Einfuhrung in die deutsche Emigranten-Literatur, Part 2, Vom Kriegsausbruch 1939 bis Ende 1946 (Worms, 1976), p. 50; and Ernst Erich Noth, "Die Exilsituation in Frankreich," in Die deutsche Exilliteratur 1933-1945, ed. Manfred Durzak (Stuttgart, 1973), p. 75.
2. Mention must be made of the pertinent sections in Kurt R. Grossmann's Emigration: Geschichte der Hitler-Fliichtlinge 1933-1945 (Frankfurt, 1969); in Hans-Albert Walter's Deutsche Exilliteratur 1933-1950: Asylpraxis und Lebensbedingungen in Europa (Darmstadt, 1972); and in his Deutsche Exilliteratur 1933-1950, Vol. 2, Europaisches Appeasement und uberseeische Exilpraxis (Stuttgart, 1984); as well as of the more specialized team studies by Gilbert Badia et al., Les barbeles de 1'exil: Etudes sur l'emigration allemande et autrichienne (1938-1940) (Grenoble, 1979); and by K. Pech et al., Exil in Frankreich (Leipzig, 1981). No major investigation into the Germanspeaking exile in France has yet appeared in English if we disregard such general studies as Egbert Krispyn's Anti- Nazi Writers in Exile (Athens, GA, 1978) or specific treatments of related subjects such as Arthur Morse's While Six Million Died: A Chronicle of American Apathy (New York, 1969).
3. The story of Walter Mehring's escape from France can be read in Hertha Pauli's autobiography, Der Riss der Zeit geht durch mein Herz: Ein Erlebnisbuch (Vienna, 1970), trans. as Break of Time (New York, 1972); Hans Sahl was present at the symposium in New York and thus could speak for himself.
4. See, for example, Wolfgang D. Elfe, "Das Emergency Rescue Committee," in Deutsche Exilliteratur seit 1933, Vol. 1 Kalifornien, part 1, ed. John M. Spalek and Joseph Strelka (Berne and Munich, 1976), pp. 214-19; and Cynthia Jaffee McCabe, "'Wanted by the Gestapo: Saved by America'Varian Fry and the Emergency Rescue Committee," in The Muses Flee Hitler: Cultural Transfer and Adaptation 1933-1945, ed. Jarrell C. Jackman and Carla M. Borden (Washington, D.C., 1983), pp. 79-91. Fry himself published a highly readable account of his underground activities in France; his book is entitled Surrender on Demand (New York, 1945) and contains references to some of the writers discussed here.
10. Braunbuch uber Reichstagsbrand und Hitler-Terror, Foreword by Lord Marley (Basel, 1933); Engl. ed., The Brown Book of the Hitler Terror and the Burning of the Reichstag, prepared by the World Committee for the Victims of German Fascism (President: Albert Einstein) with an Introduction by Lord Marley (London, 1933).
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The Museum is Closed Saturdays and Jewish Holidays. During the months of November - March, the MOT will close at 3:30pm on Fridays. Last entrance is 1:00pm.