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Authors: Kathy Kacer

Tags: #HIS043000, #HIS037070

Restitution (10 page)

BOOK: Restitution
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When his mother found a tutor for him in the city, and he began taking private lessons in Spanish and English, Karl's days were occupied and he found that he worried less. He also managed to locate his friend, George Popper, who had been attending university in Prague for almost a year. The two young men easily picked up their friendship.

“I'm concerned about my family,” George said one afternoon as he and Karl stood waiting in line at one of the many financial institutions in Prague. Each day, Marie sent Karl to one of the banks to withdraw the legally controlled limit of funds allowable on a daily basis – fifty Czech crowns
.
Through Alois Jirák, Marie had access to larger sums of money in their estate. However, some of the family's funds were here in regular bank accounts. “I don't want the government to have any of it,” Marie insisted. “We'll get it out of the bank, bit by bit if we have to.”

“Your mother was smart to get you out of Rakovník when she did. I told you that she knew what she was talking about when we were still there,” continued George. “Mine refused to leave. I haven't heard from my parents in weeks.” Karl nodded sympathetically. He didn't even want to mention this news to Hana, knowing how she would worry about George's sister, Rita. It was difficult enough for Karl and his family to be separated from his father, but at least they knew where he was. There were too many rumors that Jews in smaller towns were being arrested. Karl's mind often wandered to thoughts of the Jewish families in Rakovník. He wondered if they had had the foresight to get out as Marie had.

The line in front of the bank wound its way down the street and around a corner. Now it inched forward ever so slightly. Hundreds of citizens lined up here on a daily basis to try to retrieve their savings. Along with a growing tension in the air was a sense that the market in Prague might collapse, leaving many without financial resources. Karl and George spent long hours here on a daily basis. Still, it passed the time when there was little else for Karl to do.

As for Marie, she was working furiously to get her family out of Czechoslovakia. Through conversations with Victor and various friends and officials in Prague, the family learned that to get out of the country, three key documents were required. The first was Czech passports. They were fortunate that they had these in their possession. The two remaining requirements were a permit from the Gestapo allowing the family to leave and cross the border, and a visa from a country willing to accept them. Victor was trying to acquire the latter. Marie was in charge of the exit permits. But the acquisition of these two key documents was proving to be a daunting task.

“Even if we are able to get out of Prague, what country will take us in?” Marie voiced this concern as she sat with her children in the evenings, discussing her ongoing telephone conversations with her husband and their efforts to obtain the necessary papers. The simple truth was that not many countries were willing to open their doors to Jewish refugees, and more and more were desperate to escape their countries. Many nations thought that by accepting Jews they would be bringing the wrath of Hitler upon themselves. Besides, many refugees had no jobs and no money, and could prove economically burdensome to countries dealing with their own unemployment and poverty. Instead of refusing entry to Jewish refugees outright, many countries made the conditions for entry so difficult that it was nearly impossible to comply. Stringent quota systems on the number of Jews admissible were put into place, adding to the list of obstacles facing Jews who wanted to leave their homelands. All of this conspired to keep Karl and his family in Prague as Hitler's noose tightened ever so slowly around their necks.

By early June, prominent Czech Jews began to disappear mysteriously. Jewish synagogues across the country were burned down and Jews rounded up and beaten on the streets. Jews were barred from owning businesses and Jewish property was seized across the protectorate. On June 21, von Neurath, the new Reich protector, issued a long list of anti-Jewish decrees, not unlike those already enacted in Germany, all designed to destroy the economic viability of the Jewish population. The seizure of Jewish property became commonplace. And while some Jews were still offered the opportunity to get their exit permits and leave the country, doing so meant that they would have to transfer their capital and property to the Nazis, thus forfeiting all of their belongings.

With their family fortune in the legal hands of Alois Jirák, Marie hoped to avoid surrendering their assets to the Nazi government. She searched the city, spoke to some trusted contacts, and managed to locate a lawyer who said he was willing to help with the exit permits. Marie returned home optimistic after her first meeting with the solicitor.

“He's charming, and so reassuring,” she said. “I really think he'll be able to help us.”

Trusting him, she turned over their passports and a large sum of money. She believed that within days, the family would have the necessary papers to leave. Each morning after that, she awoke, ready for the call that would summon her to the lawyer's office to pick up the documents, and each day there was no such call. Eventually, the lawyer contacted Marie, stating that he was having difficulty securing the necessary papers. He declared that he would need more money if he were to be successful in this task. More hesitantly now, Marie complied and turned over an additional large amount of cash. Still the lawyer did not come through. Reluctantly, Marie began to suspect that she was being extorted by an unscrupulous man. Karl accompanied her on the day she went to his law office.

“I insist that you return our passports,” Marie said firmly when she and Karl were finally ushered in to face the lawyer. She stared evenly at him as she sat on the edge of a large armchair.

Karl stared at the lawyer who was trying to take advantage of his family. He was tall and gaunt, a humorless man with a permanent sneer on his face, so different from the “charming” person that Marie had at first described. He wore an ill-fitting black suit and eyed Marie quietly through thick glasses, returning her stare with one equally cool and detached. “Perhaps if you give me more money, I could do more for you. Money talks, you know.”

Marie rose taller in her seat. “I will not give you one more crown.”

The lawyer raised his eyebrows above his spectacles in a gesture that indicated his complete disdain for Marie. He shook his head. “That's a great pity,” he replied, ice cold. He then went on to say that he had turned the passports over to his contact at the Gestapo. “Perhaps you'd like to deal with them as opposed to me.”

Karl gulped.
This man had them
, he thought.
There would be no escape after all. Their belongings would be confiscated and his family would simply be fed into the jaws of the Nazis.
Karl watched his mother. What could she possibly do in the face of this threat?

Marie paused a moment, and then slowly rose out of her chair to face the lawyer. “I have nothing to lose here,” she said, so quietly that Karl and the lawyer had to lean forward to catch every word. “I have reached the end of my rope and I will do anything to get my family to safety. Unless you return the passports to me immediately, I will go to the Gestapo myself and report you.”

Karl was dumbfounded. This was an incredible and perhaps reckless display of bravado. What influence could Marie possibly have with the Gestapo, and why would they even care if one more Jew was being defrauded? But Marie was calling this man's bluff, hoping that he would not want any kind of attention brought to himself. How would he respond? He and Marie faced off against each other, staring one another in the eyes, waiting to see who would blink first. The lawyer's nostrils flared and his breathing made a high-pitched whistling sound. Minutes passed – an eternity. Finally, he rose, turned, and walked over to a large safe behind him. He opened it and reached inside. When he turned around he was holding the family's passports in his hands. He handed these precious identification papers over to Marie and motioned for her to leave with a wave of his hand, as if he were shooing away an annoying fly. Without uttering another word, Karl and his mother turned and left the office.

Once on the sidewalk they both breathed a deep sigh of relief. But Karl could see that, for all of his mother's daring, her hands were shaking as she placed the passports securely back inside her purse. She smiled weakly up at her son.

“We won that round, didn't we, Karl?”

Karl nodded admiringly. But, in the next moment, his heart sank and the sense of victory was replaced with one of despair. They were back to square one. They had no travel documents, no visa, and no means to leave the country.

In this first of a three-page document, Victor transfers to Marie full power to deal with all assets, and power to take whatever action in relation to those assets that she deems necessary.

In response to assuming power of attorney from Victor, Marie transfers this power to Mr. Alois Jirák, “professor whom I...empower as an adminstrator of our assets, real estate or other...” At the bottom of the document is a statement by Jirák saying that he accepts this Power of Attorney.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Prague, July 1939

AFTER THE FIASCO with the lawyer, Marie began to proceed more cautiously to obtain exit visas from the Gestapo. It was becoming increasingly clear that few people in Prague could be trusted to help. Swindlers were everywhere, looking for opportunities to take advantage of desperate Jews who were trying every avenue to get out of the country. As hard as his mother was working to secure the exit documents, Karl knew that his father was working equally hard to find a country willing to accept them, and to obtain the necessary entry permits. And by July 1939, it appeared that Victor might be having some luck.

As Karl was returning home from his English lessons one afternoon, the streets were busy with people rushing about at the end of the workday. At first glance, all appeared normal. But a second look told a different story. On every corner and in front of many shops and stalls, there were Nazi soldiers and Czech police patrolling side by side. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders in an almost casual manner. But their eyes were trained on the faces of the people as they passed by.
What are they looking for?
Karl wondered as he kept his head down and walked quickly toward his home. Were they searching for Jews? And would they recognize him as one if they had a good look? Signs and placards in stores and cafés warned that Jews were not permitted to shop or sit. The flag bearing the swastika flew at every street intersection and draped the tallest buildings. Karl resisted the burning urge to document the pillage of this city with his camera. It had remained tucked away in his suitcase at the flat. A young red-haired man snapping photographs of Nazi soldiers would be a beacon and he was smart enough not to risk this exposure.

As soon as Karl pushed open the front door of their apartment, he was greeted by the most intoxicating smells coming from the kitchen. There was the familiar aroma of caraway, paprika, and dill combining with garlic and onions. He closed his eyes and felt himself transported back home where these smells at the end of the day meant only one thing – a banquet in the dining room and guests for dinner.

Karl followed the smells into the formal dining room at the back of the flat where he was startled to see Leila setting the table with the fine china, silverware, and crystal wine glasses that had been there in the villa when they had arrived. This ceremonial dining ware had seldom been used by Karl's family. It seemed pointless to dine formally when it was only Karl, his mother, and sister.

Marie was directing Leila from one side of the room but stopped when her son entered. “Karl,” she said brightly, her face more alive than he had seen in weeks. Strands of hair had escaped from her bun and flew about the top of her head. She had a schoolgirl excitement about her. “How were the lessons today?”

BOOK: Restitution
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ads

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