Letters Yad Vashem, Israël V.
4-2-1943
Dearest children,
Poor Lientje, I haven’t written anything at all yet about your toes. Are you glad the operation is over now? I hope you’ll soon be back on your feet (bad Dutch expression). But you know, my head is spinning from all the distress around me and from everything that still needs to be done for Mother. If we don’t find a room quickly, everything will be taken out of her house before she can save her belongings. But that is still the least of it. Things look very bad for Heinz (Kaempfer) because of the escape, though he is lucky it hasn’t turned into a criminal case. Mother has suffered a severe trauma and at the moment looks like a small old woman. Hopefully she will recover. The thought of Lala and Tata is driving everyone mad. And just imagine that Mother only narrowly escaped!
Have you already thanked Mrs. Van den Bergh? She involved herself in the ward in an exceptional way and was wonderful in how she handled the matter. I have great respect for her and for the work of the Expositeur, who takes on every case as if there were no others. Franz has written a splendid letter to Sluzer.
The “Powenz Gang” has given us much joy, and it’s already at least 14 days since I sent all the books on. It was telling that three people rang the bell one after the other to take the packages to the next addresses: Westerbork, the Oranienburg concentration camp, St. Michielsgestel. Europe! As I write this, a voice is roaring downstairs: “Drei, Vier!” and soldiers begin to sing. Oh God, when will this ghostly business come to an end?
Embrace one another, children, and my heartfelt wishes for recovery for all those toes—and for your little deer,
Yours,
Ilse
Have you… old acquaintances? Otherwise I will try to get them for you. I still have 1 guilder of yours. Tata’s vulgar painting is now hanging at my place.
The Powenz Gang is the title of a novel by the writer Ernst Penzoldt, published in 1930.
Heinz Kaempfer was the eldest son of Käthe Ledermann, a sister of Franz Ledermann, and the lawyer Felix Kaempfer from Posen. He had a younger brother, Otto Hans, who was born on September 18, 1906, but died on October 19, 1918, at the age of 13 after a serious illness.
In 1920, Heinz moved with his parents to Berlin, where he continued his schooling. After graduating from the Prinz-Heinrichs-Gymnasium, he wanted to become a businessman. His father died shortly after their move to Berlin, after which Heinz continued to live with his mother on Potsdamerstraße.
On June 4, 1936, he married Eva Wrzeszinski, the daughter of a lawyer from Berlin. Shortly afterward, the couple settled in The Hague, where Heinz registered as a dealer in etchings. Two years later, Heinz Kaempfer tried to bring his mother to the Netherlands. Initially, the request was denied, but on November 14, 1938, she was granted permission for a temporary stay.
The Kaempfer family had a son, Raymond (Ray), who was born on March 4, 1940, in The Hague. Because the family had to leave the coastal region, Kaempfer rented the house “Op den Driest” in Beekbergen in 1941. Family and friends could spend their holidays there, which also became a source of income. Anne Frank stayed there for some time in 1941 with the family of her friend Sanne Ledermann. Several photographs from that holiday still exist.
In 1942, the deportations of Jews began, and the Kaempfers realized they were no longer safe. They went into hiding in the western part of the country. A few months later, Heinz was betrayed and sent to Westerbork, but he was one of the few who survived the camp and was liberated in 1945.
Eva, who was also discovered, survived the Vught concentration camp. Little Ray, who had lived apart from his parents at seven different addresses for three years, was reunited with both of them in July 1945. He no longer recognized them. Later, he said: “They were strangers to me. I hadn’t seen them since I was two years old, and I didn’t even know what had happened to me.”
In 1946, Ray’s younger brother was born.
Käthe, Heinz’s mother, also went into hiding. In October 1942, the police commissioner in Apeldoorn ordered that she be traced, arrested, and brought to trial. She had been living in Apeldoorn but was suspected of having changed her residence without the required permit—an accusation commonly used for Jews in hiding. She was eventually arrested and ended up in the transit camp Westerbork “via Scheveningen.”
An interesting detail is that Jenny Kaiser-Fischer, the grandmother of Eva Wrzeszinski, was arrested around the same time and also ended up in Westerbork “via Scheveningen.” It is possible that they obtained a hiding place through the same network, which was later discovered or betrayed.
On November 16, 1943, both were deported to Auschwitz, where they were murdered on November 19.
In the postwar years, Heinz Kaempfer was involved with the Association for Japanese Art and Crafts (now the Association for Japanese Art), founded in 1937. His love of Japanese art appears to have begun in Berlin, at an art gallery on Pariser Platz, where a major exhibition of Japanese art took place in 1931.
In his role as secretary and later chairman of the association, he played a prominent part in the promotion and appreciation of Japanese art. He is the namesake of the Heinz M. Kaempfer Fund, established in 1989, which aims to promote and make accessible the study of Japanese art.
Heinz Kaempfer died in 1986. Source: Anne Frank House.
Dearest children,
Poor Lientje, I haven’t written anything at all yet about your toes. Are you glad the operation is over now? I hope you’ll soon be back on your feet (bad Dutch expression). But you know, my head is spinning from all the distress around me and from everything that still needs to be done for Mother. If we don’t find a room quickly, everything will be taken out of her house before she can save her belongings. But that is still the least of it. Things look very bad for Heinz (Kaempfer) because of the escape, though he is lucky it hasn’t turned into a criminal case. Mother has suffered a severe trauma and at the moment looks like a small old woman. Hopefully she will recover. The thought of Lala and Tata is driving everyone mad. And just imagine that Mother only narrowly escaped!
Have you already thanked Mrs. Van den Bergh? She involved herself in the ward in an exceptional way and was wonderful in how she handled the matter. I have great respect for her and for the work of the Expositeur, who takes on every case as if there were no others. Franz has written a splendid letter to Sluzer.
The “Powenz Gang” has given us much joy, and it’s already at least 14 days since I sent all the books on. It was telling that three people rang the bell one after the other to take the packages to the next addresses: Westerbork, the Oranienburg concentration camp, St. Michielsgestel. Europe! As I write this, a voice is roaring downstairs: “Drei, Vier!” and soldiers begin to sing. Oh God, when will this ghostly business come to an end?
Embrace one another, children, and my heartfelt wishes for recovery for all those toes—and for your little deer,
Yours,
Ilse
Have you… old acquaintances? Otherwise I will try to get them for you. I still have 1 guilder of yours. Tata’s vulgar painting is now hanging at my place.
The Powenz Gang is the title of a novel by the writer Ernst Penzoldt, published in 1930.
Heinz Kaempfer was the eldest son of Käthe Ledermann, a sister of Franz Ledermann, and the lawyer Felix Kaempfer from Posen. He had a younger brother, Otto Hans, who was born on September 18, 1906, but died on October 19, 1918, at the age of 13 after a serious illness.
In 1920, Heinz moved with his parents to Berlin, where he continued his schooling. After graduating from the Prinz-Heinrichs-Gymnasium, he wanted to become a businessman. His father died shortly after their move to Berlin, after which Heinz continued to live with his mother on Potsdamerstraße.
On June 4, 1936, he married Eva Wrzeszinski, the daughter of a lawyer from Berlin. Shortly afterward, the couple settled in The Hague, where Heinz registered as a dealer in etchings. Two years later, Heinz Kaempfer tried to bring his mother to the Netherlands. Initially, the request was denied, but on November 14, 1938, she was granted permission for a temporary stay.
The Kaempfer family had a son, Raymond (Ray), who was born on March 4, 1940, in The Hague. Because the family had to leave the coastal region, Kaempfer rented the house “Op den Driest” in Beekbergen in 1941. Family and friends could spend their holidays there, which also became a source of income. Anne Frank stayed there for some time in 1941 with the family of her friend Sanne Ledermann. Several photographs from that holiday still exist.
In 1942, the deportations of Jews began, and the Kaempfers realized they were no longer safe. They went into hiding in the western part of the country. A few months later, Heinz was betrayed and sent to Westerbork, but he was one of the few who survived the camp and was liberated in 1945.
Eva, who was also discovered, survived the Vught concentration camp. Little Ray, who had lived apart from his parents at seven different addresses for three years, was reunited with both of them in July 1945. He no longer recognized them. Later, he said: “They were strangers to me. I hadn’t seen them since I was two years old, and I didn’t even know what had happened to me.”
In 1946, Ray’s younger brother was born.
Käthe, Heinz’s mother, also went into hiding. In October 1942, the police commissioner in Apeldoorn ordered that she be traced, arrested, and brought to trial. She had been living in Apeldoorn but was suspected of having changed her residence without the required permit—an accusation commonly used for Jews in hiding. She was eventually arrested and ended up in the transit camp Westerbork “via Scheveningen.”
An interesting detail is that Jenny Kaiser-Fischer, the grandmother of Eva Wrzeszinski, was arrested around the same time and also ended up in Westerbork “via Scheveningen.” It is possible that they obtained a hiding place through the same network, which was later discovered or betrayed.
On November 16, 1943, both were deported to Auschwitz, where they were murdered on November 19.
In the postwar years, Heinz Kaempfer was involved with the Association for Japanese Art and Crafts (now the Association for Japanese Art), founded in 1937. His love of Japanese art appears to have begun in Berlin, at an art gallery on Pariser Platz, where a major exhibition of Japanese art took place in 1931.
In his role as secretary and later chairman of the association, he played a prominent part in the promotion and appreciation of Japanese art. He is the namesake of the Heinz M. Kaempfer Fund, established in 1989, which aims to promote and make accessible the study of Japanese art.
Heinz Kaempfer died in 1986. Source: Anne Frank House.
Dear Paul and Lientje, 9-2-1943
Yesterday I thought, I can’t bear it any longer—I had lost all hope—but today I feel more courage again; perhaps Sluzer can still manage to arrange something. Since yesterday afternoon at six o’clock, Mother has been back in the Schouwburg. She had gone into her home at half past four—I found that dreadful, but she wanted it so much—and at half past six the daughter of dentist Cats came to tell us that Mother had been taken from her home. They saw a vehicle from the raid squad stop in front of Mother’s house; a “Grüne” rang the bell, she apparently opened the door, came outside again together with him, and got into the vehicle.
Cats immediately went to the Expeditor—he knows Sluzer personally. His daughter came to us. Trembling, I then packed Mother’s small suitcase together with two blankets and, together with Laetitia Cats, brought it to the Expo; Franz went there by bicycle. There was only a gentleman there who told us that Mother was already supposed to be on the train that would leave for the Borneokade at eight o’clock. It was then seven. I begged him to have the luggage sent there. He thought it might still be possible there to try to obtain her release. But when no message had arrived by nine o’clock, I already saw her on her way to Westerbork and was drafting a written request in which I emphasized her merits during the previous war, so that at least she might be sent to Theresienstadt.
This morning Mrs. Boll, our friend from the Expo, came by and told us that Mother was still in the Schouwburg at nine o’clock last night. A Mr. S., who works there and recognized Mother from before, had told her so. I regained hope. I immediately went to Mr. S.’s house; he believed Mother had been accused of having stayed in her own home. Until then I had not realized this. I had thought she had simply run into her fate at the very moment she was there again, when some summons or other was being issued.
I went to the Expo with two small packages and a letter for Mother and asked the boy who was to deliver them to ask her why she had been there in the first place and how it had come about. He would bring me her answer. As I was leaving, I happened to see Sluzer going away and addressed him: “I am Mrs. Ledermann, my mother is back in the Schouwburg.”
He asked: “Mrs. Citroen?” Yes. “Why did she go back into her home? She could have sent someone else, couldn’t she?” He was very irritated. “I will see what I can do. It is not a criminal case—if it were, nothing could be done.”
So I assume that Mother simply ended up there again as part of the nursing-home action. And her luggage is gone! She has now lost all her warm things. They immediately telegraphed Westerbork, but that gives me little hope that it will turn up again. This worries me greatly. If she really has to go, how will I get everything she needs to her as quickly as possible? All her toiletries, her slippers, and so on. But I still have hope. Mr. Simon was to be at the Schouwburg again at three o’clock and would try to speak to the officials who had taken her away. He knows them well and will try to make it seem like a mistake, since Mother had been released before. If only this turns out well. Oh God, she is so weak and so tired and so terribly kind—and I was so happy to have her with us at home and to be able to take care of her for once. And we worked together so wonderfully. Never have I experienced such a setback as at the moment the message was brought to me. At first I couldn’t understand it at all.
Half past nine. Around five o’clock a message came from Mother that she needed luggage because the transport would leave tonight for Vught. So I packed a small suitcase with the bare necessities we had and made a roll of a mattress, a blanket, a pillow, and a padded nightgown. I had this delivered to the Schouwburg by a courier service. I myself brought her overshoes and umbrella there. At the crèche they told me there were still chances for her; everyone knew cases where release only came just before the transport left at two in the morning. So it might be twelve or one o’clock. We must rely on Sluzer’s skill.
When I came home at seven in the evening, there was another message from Mother saying she hoped to see us again soon. She had received my packages from this morning and could make good use of everything. The boy I had sent also told me that Mother had fallen victim to an unfortunate coincidence. Yesterday all the nursing homes had been visited once more to check whether anyone had been left behind.achtergebleven and it was precisely there that they found Mother and took her away. So truly a disaster. Children, I cannot bear the thought that we might lose her because of this carelessness.
Wednesday morning. She has been sent on to Vught. From there she will probably be transferred to Westerbork. We are preparing everything there for her comfort. I simply cannot come to terms with it. She could have stayed here and been cared for. And because of this punishable carelessness, she now has to go. We should have realized that on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays—when arrests take place—we should not have let her go there. But who would have thought that they (the Germans) would go there again, where everyone had already been taken away? Mrs. van Praag is still in Westerbork together with her daughter. I am sending a food parcel to Vught in the name of a friend there, Mr. Lehmann. If she is still there, he can give it to her. Have you received the letter, Lientje? Rein has already delivered everything.
Yours,
Ilse
In the month of February, the “guerrilla” against the elderly, the sick, and orphans continued unabated; it is only mentioned here and there. Another 250 sick people were taken to the Borneokade on February 1, 1943, during the day; at night it was “quiet.” The following night, “a number of persons, exclusively special cases.” On February 3, 1943, 230 elderly and sick people were taken during the day, and again at night “special cases.”
In the night of February 9 to 10, 1943, 400 people were transported from the Schouwburg to Vught; on February 10 we learned that shortly before, 426 people from Vught had “arrived” in Westerbork, mainly persons over 55.
Yesterday I thought, I can’t bear it any longer—I had lost all hope—but today I feel more courage again; perhaps Sluzer can still manage to arrange something. Since yesterday afternoon at six o’clock, Mother has been back in the Schouwburg. She had gone into her home at half past four—I found that dreadful, but she wanted it so much—and at half past six the daughter of dentist Cats came to tell us that Mother had been taken from her home. They saw a vehicle from the raid squad stop in front of Mother’s house; a “Grüne” rang the bell, she apparently opened the door, came outside again together with him, and got into the vehicle.
Cats immediately went to the Expeditor—he knows Sluzer personally. His daughter came to us. Trembling, I then packed Mother’s small suitcase together with two blankets and, together with Laetitia Cats, brought it to the Expo; Franz went there by bicycle. There was only a gentleman there who told us that Mother was already supposed to be on the train that would leave for the Borneokade at eight o’clock. It was then seven. I begged him to have the luggage sent there. He thought it might still be possible there to try to obtain her release. But when no message had arrived by nine o’clock, I already saw her on her way to Westerbork and was drafting a written request in which I emphasized her merits during the previous war, so that at least she might be sent to Theresienstadt.
This morning Mrs. Boll, our friend from the Expo, came by and told us that Mother was still in the Schouwburg at nine o’clock last night. A Mr. S., who works there and recognized Mother from before, had told her so. I regained hope. I immediately went to Mr. S.’s house; he believed Mother had been accused of having stayed in her own home. Until then I had not realized this. I had thought she had simply run into her fate at the very moment she was there again, when some summons or other was being issued.
I went to the Expo with two small packages and a letter for Mother and asked the boy who was to deliver them to ask her why she had been there in the first place and how it had come about. He would bring me her answer. As I was leaving, I happened to see Sluzer going away and addressed him: “I am Mrs. Ledermann, my mother is back in the Schouwburg.”
He asked: “Mrs. Citroen?” Yes. “Why did she go back into her home? She could have sent someone else, couldn’t she?” He was very irritated. “I will see what I can do. It is not a criminal case—if it were, nothing could be done.”
So I assume that Mother simply ended up there again as part of the nursing-home action. And her luggage is gone! She has now lost all her warm things. They immediately telegraphed Westerbork, but that gives me little hope that it will turn up again. This worries me greatly. If she really has to go, how will I get everything she needs to her as quickly as possible? All her toiletries, her slippers, and so on. But I still have hope. Mr. Simon was to be at the Schouwburg again at three o’clock and would try to speak to the officials who had taken her away. He knows them well and will try to make it seem like a mistake, since Mother had been released before. If only this turns out well. Oh God, she is so weak and so tired and so terribly kind—and I was so happy to have her with us at home and to be able to take care of her for once. And we worked together so wonderfully. Never have I experienced such a setback as at the moment the message was brought to me. At first I couldn’t understand it at all.
Half past nine. Around five o’clock a message came from Mother that she needed luggage because the transport would leave tonight for Vught. So I packed a small suitcase with the bare necessities we had and made a roll of a mattress, a blanket, a pillow, and a padded nightgown. I had this delivered to the Schouwburg by a courier service. I myself brought her overshoes and umbrella there. At the crèche they told me there were still chances for her; everyone knew cases where release only came just before the transport left at two in the morning. So it might be twelve or one o’clock. We must rely on Sluzer’s skill.
When I came home at seven in the evening, there was another message from Mother saying she hoped to see us again soon. She had received my packages from this morning and could make good use of everything. The boy I had sent also told me that Mother had fallen victim to an unfortunate coincidence. Yesterday all the nursing homes had been visited once more to check whether anyone had been left behind.achtergebleven and it was precisely there that they found Mother and took her away. So truly a disaster. Children, I cannot bear the thought that we might lose her because of this carelessness.
Wednesday morning. She has been sent on to Vught. From there she will probably be transferred to Westerbork. We are preparing everything there for her comfort. I simply cannot come to terms with it. She could have stayed here and been cared for. And because of this punishable carelessness, she now has to go. We should have realized that on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays—when arrests take place—we should not have let her go there. But who would have thought that they (the Germans) would go there again, where everyone had already been taken away? Mrs. van Praag is still in Westerbork together with her daughter. I am sending a food parcel to Vught in the name of a friend there, Mr. Lehmann. If she is still there, he can give it to her. Have you received the letter, Lientje? Rein has already delivered everything.
Yours,
Ilse
In the month of February, the “guerrilla” against the elderly, the sick, and orphans continued unabated; it is only mentioned here and there. Another 250 sick people were taken to the Borneokade on February 1, 1943, during the day; at night it was “quiet.” The following night, “a number of persons, exclusively special cases.” On February 3, 1943, 230 elderly and sick people were taken during the day, and again at night “special cases.”
In the night of February 9 to 10, 1943, 400 people were transported from the Schouwburg to Vught; on February 10 we learned that shortly before, 426 people from Vught had “arrived” in Westerbork, mainly persons over 55.
My dearest ones, 12-2-1943
Thank you for your letter, Lientje. Mother had a blouse, a woolen jumper, and she is wearing your black knitted jacket. I remember saying, when she left, that it was very cold, and she put the jacket on over it. Warm slippers would be nice, if they have leather soles. Yesterday I bought a pair of thick knitted wool ones. A pair of tights would also be good, as well as a vest and underpants. But the brown jacket is not necessary.
I have bought another suitcase, and I want to send it with everything in it to Westerbork, to be handed over via a friend from the Jewish Council, so that Mother will receive it when she arrives there. We have not received any news at all. Postal contact with Vught does not yet exist. I sent two letters there and heard this early this morning. I have also sent two food parcels; those will arrive. It is also permitted to send 15 guilders weekly, but she had money with her. I have no idea when she will leave there, or whether she is already in Westerbork, or if she will remain in Vught. This uncertainty is so dreadful.
It would be best if you send Mother’s things to Chaja, or to Wachtel, or to Miss Liesel, an Austrian from the Jewish Council.
The current address is:
Ellen Citroen Philippi, born 30-6-1872,
Transport of 10-2-1943, concentration camp Vught.
Of course, when you send the items, you write to the addressee and indicate for whom they are intended. But do not add anything extra to the parcel—that is not allowed; otherwise send a separate package.
With deepest affection,
Ilse
Heino Held has also been taken along with … the others.
On Monday, February 8, 1943, it was a cold winter day in the Netherlands, with an average temperature of 1.5°C. The temperature dropped to a minimum of –1.9°C and rose during the day to a maximum of 5.4°C. There was a moderate wind from the south-southwest, and there were on average 3.9 hours of sunshine.
Thank you for your letter, Lientje. Mother had a blouse, a woolen jumper, and she is wearing your black knitted jacket. I remember saying, when she left, that it was very cold, and she put the jacket on over it. Warm slippers would be nice, if they have leather soles. Yesterday I bought a pair of thick knitted wool ones. A pair of tights would also be good, as well as a vest and underpants. But the brown jacket is not necessary.
I have bought another suitcase, and I want to send it with everything in it to Westerbork, to be handed over via a friend from the Jewish Council, so that Mother will receive it when she arrives there. We have not received any news at all. Postal contact with Vught does not yet exist. I sent two letters there and heard this early this morning. I have also sent two food parcels; those will arrive. It is also permitted to send 15 guilders weekly, but she had money with her. I have no idea when she will leave there, or whether she is already in Westerbork, or if she will remain in Vught. This uncertainty is so dreadful.
It would be best if you send Mother’s things to Chaja, or to Wachtel, or to Miss Liesel, an Austrian from the Jewish Council.
The current address is:
Ellen Citroen Philippi, born 30-6-1872,
Transport of 10-2-1943, concentration camp Vught.
Of course, when you send the items, you write to the addressee and indicate for whom they are intended. But do not add anything extra to the parcel—that is not allowed; otherwise send a separate package.
With deepest affection,
Ilse
Heino Held has also been taken along with … the others.
On Monday, February 8, 1943, it was a cold winter day in the Netherlands, with an average temperature of 1.5°C. The temperature dropped to a minimum of –1.9°C and rose during the day to a maximum of 5.4°C. There was a moderate wind from the south-southwest, and there were on average 3.9 hours of sunshine.
My dear Paultje and Lien, 17-2-1943
Mr. Blüth has returned and brought a note from Lehmann, which Mother had apparently inspired, and which read: “Well cared for. Luggage not received. Greetings to the children.” I am in despair. Everything that was brought to the Schouwburg has therefore been lost, and she has nothing left. You cannot imagine such a thing. No blanket, nothing at all. I feel like screaming. They will certainly help her—apart from Mr. Lehmann, who will surely assist her, there are also other acquaintances there. Tomorrow I will go and complain, but what good will that do? Do you still have any washcloths? I don’t have any left.
This morning I sent another food parcel to Vught, because there was still a delivery on Tuesday. But as for clothing, I have no confidence in sending it, because she could arrive in Westerbork any day now, as people say here—and I believe that too. Then it would just disappear again. I now want to send two more blankets to Westerbork. Everything else is in the suitcase I already sent there, the receipt of which has not yet been confirmed. I still want to send a few small things afterward—and perhaps you still have some washcloths?
Tata’s padded nightgown was also in the roll with the mattress, along with a pillow and one of our old travel blankets. All gone. And there were such lovely things for eating in the small suitcase. I thought she would be happy with them. How are we supposed to endure this?
I am not able to write to Hans—would you do that? God, this image… such lost figures. Does this still exist? Franz says that Switzerland has escaped the war, but it will not escape the peace, and everything will change completely. Hans talks so much nonsense about your dear, simple little book. He seems not to understand it at all. Funny. He thinks so differently from us. That book can only be felt.
I am enclosing a letter from Peter Diamand. Perhaps you can sort it out. My head is not up to it now. Keep Hans’s letter. When Mother arrives in Westerbork, we can send it to her, along with the photographs. Send her your photos in particular—they were in the lost suitcase.
Yesterday afternoon I went past Mother’s house; it has already been emptied. According to Miss Postma, seven moving vans were needed to take everything away. In her little room, the only thing still hanging on the wall was the photograph of the three of you. And books, picture frames, and papers were scattered across the floor—these had been left behind. Let’s not think about it now…
When you receive new photos of Hans, send them on to her later.
Yours,
Ilse
Blüth was an official connected to the Jewish Council. He is mentioned as someone involved in practical matters, such as trying to arrange barracks. In notes about camp Vught, Blüth is described as someone who had the ability to negotiate with the camp SS.
Lehmann (Israel Sussmann Lehmann; Lengfeld, June 18, 1859 – Auschwitz, August 27, 1943) was one of the Jewish camp leaders. He was responsible for managing a Jewish camp and made proposals during meetings of the Jewish Council. He is associated with transport lists from the Westerbork camp.
Mr. Blüth has returned and brought a note from Lehmann, which Mother had apparently inspired, and which read: “Well cared for. Luggage not received. Greetings to the children.” I am in despair. Everything that was brought to the Schouwburg has therefore been lost, and she has nothing left. You cannot imagine such a thing. No blanket, nothing at all. I feel like screaming. They will certainly help her—apart from Mr. Lehmann, who will surely assist her, there are also other acquaintances there. Tomorrow I will go and complain, but what good will that do? Do you still have any washcloths? I don’t have any left.
This morning I sent another food parcel to Vught, because there was still a delivery on Tuesday. But as for clothing, I have no confidence in sending it, because she could arrive in Westerbork any day now, as people say here—and I believe that too. Then it would just disappear again. I now want to send two more blankets to Westerbork. Everything else is in the suitcase I already sent there, the receipt of which has not yet been confirmed. I still want to send a few small things afterward—and perhaps you still have some washcloths?
Tata’s padded nightgown was also in the roll with the mattress, along with a pillow and one of our old travel blankets. All gone. And there were such lovely things for eating in the small suitcase. I thought she would be happy with them. How are we supposed to endure this?
I am not able to write to Hans—would you do that? God, this image… such lost figures. Does this still exist? Franz says that Switzerland has escaped the war, but it will not escape the peace, and everything will change completely. Hans talks so much nonsense about your dear, simple little book. He seems not to understand it at all. Funny. He thinks so differently from us. That book can only be felt.
I am enclosing a letter from Peter Diamand. Perhaps you can sort it out. My head is not up to it now. Keep Hans’s letter. When Mother arrives in Westerbork, we can send it to her, along with the photographs. Send her your photos in particular—they were in the lost suitcase.
Yesterday afternoon I went past Mother’s house; it has already been emptied. According to Miss Postma, seven moving vans were needed to take everything away. In her little room, the only thing still hanging on the wall was the photograph of the three of you. And books, picture frames, and papers were scattered across the floor—these had been left behind. Let’s not think about it now…
When you receive new photos of Hans, send them on to her later.
Yours,
Ilse
Blüth was an official connected to the Jewish Council. He is mentioned as someone involved in practical matters, such as trying to arrange barracks. In notes about camp Vught, Blüth is described as someone who had the ability to negotiate with the camp SS.
Lehmann (Israel Sussmann Lehmann; Lengfeld, June 18, 1859 – Auschwitz, August 27, 1943) was one of the Jewish camp leaders. He was responsible for managing a Jewish camp and made proposals during meetings of the Jewish Council. He is associated with transport lists from the Westerbork camp.
Peter Diamand was born in Berlin in 1913 and fled to Amsterdam in 1933 to escape the Nazis. Until his departure from Europe in 1939, he served as secretary to the pianist Arthur Schnabel. During the war, Peter Diamand was involved with the Jewish Symphony Orchestra, in which the Nazis concentrated all Dutch musicians of Jewish origin. He was arrested and sent to Westerbork, but was released because, according to German records, he had been arrested “too early,” which disrupted their administration. Diamand subsequently went into hiding.
During those years in hiding, he made plans—together with Henk Reinink, later Secretary-General of the Ministry of Education, Arts and Sciences—to establish a Holland Festival.
After the war, these plans became reality, and in 1947 the Holland Festival was founded. Peter Diamand became its director and determined its policies in every respect. He believed that the festival should bring only the very best performers and productions in music, opera, and ballet to the Netherlands. Thanks to him, Kathleen Ferrier performed Gluck’s Orfeo in the Netherlands, and in 1959 Maria Callas also appeared in Amsterdam. He also brought many other prominent figures to the Netherlands, including Giulini. He himself was most proud of his contribution to the wider recognition of the operas of the Czech composer Janácek, which received their first Dutch performances at the Holland Festival.
In 1965, Peter Diamand moved to Scotland, where he became director of the renowned Edinburgh Festival, a position he held until 1978. He later became director of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in London and served as an advisor to the Orchestre de Paris. Peter Diamand lived to the age of 84; he passed away on January 16, 1998.
NEXT
WEGGUM.COM
During those years in hiding, he made plans—together with Henk Reinink, later Secretary-General of the Ministry of Education, Arts and Sciences—to establish a Holland Festival.
After the war, these plans became reality, and in 1947 the Holland Festival was founded. Peter Diamand became its director and determined its policies in every respect. He believed that the festival should bring only the very best performers and productions in music, opera, and ballet to the Netherlands. Thanks to him, Kathleen Ferrier performed Gluck’s Orfeo in the Netherlands, and in 1959 Maria Callas also appeared in Amsterdam. He also brought many other prominent figures to the Netherlands, including Giulini. He himself was most proud of his contribution to the wider recognition of the operas of the Czech composer Janácek, which received their first Dutch performances at the Holland Festival.
In 1965, Peter Diamand moved to Scotland, where he became director of the renowned Edinburgh Festival, a position he held until 1978. He later became director of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in London and served as an advisor to the Orchestre de Paris. Peter Diamand lived to the age of 84; he passed away on January 16, 1998.
NEXT
WEGGUM.COM