Judisches Museum - Frankfurt am Main

Today is International Holocaust Remembrance Day, "an annual day of commemoration to honor the victims of the Nazi era", according to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum website. This morning, the museum tweeted "How will you honor the victims?". I have been holding on to this blog post since December, but today seems like a good day to send it out. While M.J. doesn't have any relatives ,who lived in Frankfurt, Germany, he did have many relatives, who were victims of the Nazis. This is what prompted my visit to the Judisches Museum in Frankfurt am Main and this blog post is dedicated to the many Frankfurt Jewish men, women and children who were killed during the Holocaust.

Judisches Museum - Frankfurt am Main, Germany

During our trip to Germany in November,  we stumbled upon the Judisches Museum in Frankfurt while walking back along the Main River to our hotel from Old Frankfurt. The museum is housed in the original Rothschild Palace, a large impressive, all white structure.

First, it should be noted that the Judisches Museum is one of a pair of museums, which includes the Judengasse Museum, also in Frankfurt. Because of our limited time, we only visited the first, but the second is on the site of the Jewish Ghetto (Judengasse means Jewish Lane) and includes an excavation of part of the area. The Judsiches Museum fulfills it's overall statement of purpose, which is to portray the history of the Jewish people in Frankfurt form the 12th to the 20th centuries. The exhibit I found most compelling was the walk through wooden model of the Judengasse.

If you have Jewish ancestors or relatives from Frankfurt, you may find helpful information at one of two museums. The Judisches Museum has an on-site research library. The Judengasse Museum has data with details about the people who lived on the Judengasse as well as names and biographies of Frankfurt Jews, who were deported and murdered. There is a database online at Infobank Judengasse Frankfurt am Main.

There are a few things you should know before you visit. If you wear reading glasses, don't forget them! Translations are provided in written format for all of the displays, many of which are text heavy, but the lighting in the museum is very dim. It is not a museum for children, unless your children like to read. All of the displays require a lot of reading. We did not rent the english audio as we did not have enough time to get the most benefit from it, but I assume that would have been helpful. An hour was not nearly enough time to fully appreciate all that the museum had to offer. On the way out I bought a wonderful English guidebook that I wish I had had while going through the museum. You may want to pick one up at the desk where you purchase tickets. Unfortunately, I do not remember if they had other language versions. If you get hungry or thirsty, there is a good quality coffee shop on site. 

Finally, there are always temporary exhibits at the museum. This was available at an additional cost, which was minimal on top of the $7.00 euros we paid to enter. There is a schedule of events available on the website.
 

It is good to know that there are museums like this in Frankfurt, so that future generations can learn about the history of antisemitism and how it progressed to the point where the Holocaust became possible. As a genealogist, I strive to remember and help others remember their family history. Thank you to the Judisches Museum for helping others to remember. 

Scrappy Gen

Traveling Back in Time – Frankfurt, Germany – United States 97th General Hospital

Here at long last is our memorable adventure with the polizei (police) at the now defunct United States 97th General Hospital as remembered by my sister, Mary.

Disclaimer: No photos will appear in this story.

In Germany cars are smaller for several reasons; smaller people, smaller roads, expensive gas, but mostly to be able to maneuver quickly in and out of traffic at high speeds, regardless of pedestrian or oncoming traffic. Mom and Dad rented one of these cars into which the seven of us promptly stuffed ourselves. As we travelled up, up and around the curves and narrow pathways of the parking garage, I couldn’t help feeling I was on the Test Track ride at Epcot. Around the corner and increase speed to 20 MPH, around another corner and increase speed to 30 MPH and around another corner and increase speed to 40 MPH. When I saw a glimpse of daylight ahead, I worried for a second there was an oncoming truck. Suddenly we shot out into daylight and we were on the streets with the rest of the maniacs zipping around. I am pretty sure Dad enjoyed all that shifting into gear and taking the corners at what felt like warp speed. 
 
Why is it one always feels the need for a Xanax after the panic has set in and it is too late?

We were on our way, first to Frankfurt to see the 97th General Hospital where Jennifer was born. If we survived that, we would go to Butzbach to see where I was born. There were lots of wrong turns, lots of yelling and after I saw the beating Dad was taking from all of us, I was glad I was not driving. I could not imagine myself figuring out this new car in a foreign country; a car overloaded with people who primarily speak English in a country with all German signs. My only goal was to avoid all autobahns. Despite all these odds against him, Dad did a great job. I know this because I am alive to write about it.

We did get lost and went in circles, but thanks to Jennifer (Now who would have imagined she would be the one to find our way anywhere?), we finally found the hospital. There were no cars on the street as we circled the area. It looked so abandoned and sad.

Dad found a spot to park, which was not too hard since our car was the only one. After all, who would need to park near a building not in use? Here we all piled out onto the street (picture a circus car). Jen and I were the first to get to where the main entrance of the hospital used to be. There we saw signs for the United States Consulate. Of course, being the photographers that we both are, she pulled out her camera. Suddenly the door of the consulate flew open and a guard in a uniform yelled out to her Verboten! Verboten! with that right index finger tsking her in an abrupt and directive way. I yelled to her to put her camera down, he doesn’t want you taking pictures! Thankfully she had stopped and all I could think of was ‘whew that was close’.

At this point the rest of the gang is out of the car and Dad is approaching the man in the uniform. Come to find out he is an American living in Germany. Dad explained that Jennifer was born in this hospital and that is why we are there. He told us that we could not take pictures because “they” do not want us too, and if “they” see us take pictures “they” will come and either erase the pictures off of the card or take the camera away from us. We, of course, are all relieved that Jen had not taken any pictures. Shaking all of our heads in unison to ensure this man that we all understood, we asked if we could take a walk around the perimeter and he said that would be OK.

We were on our way down the street, skipping along in our minds, not realizing yet that “they” really did not want us there. Within moments here comes the Polizei slowing down, giving us the once over and then taking off quickly down the street. They drove down a bit and then did a quick u-turn. We all knew they were coming back for us.

Now why I was nervous, I do not know, because we were doing nothing wrong. However, when they pulled up to the curb, there we were again all shaking our heads in unison and saying whatever we think will make them go away. The Polizei advised us that “they” had called them and “they” wanted to make sure we were told not to take any pictures. Otherwise “they” will come and confiscate your pictures or camera. I can tell you this, these Polizei were trying to look friendly. You know the smile that says they aren’t sure if we are up to something so they are playing nice to feel us out. We advised them we already knew because the guard at the consulate had told us. Dad asked these smiling Polizei if it is ok for us to walk down the street. Their response? Well, Germany is a free country and we can’t stop you (emphasis on the word stop) from walking down the street. There was a general feeling of fear in the air and I can tell you it was coming from us not from the Polizei. We decided as soon as they left we needed to get back to the car and make like a tree and leave.

We quickly returned to the clown car and climbed over each other as fast as we could to get in so we could get out of there. Dad was trying to figure out the parking brake and the rest of us were yelling just go, go, go. So we left the place of Jen’s birth, where we certainly did not procure any memorable pictures, but definitely experienced a memory none of us will ever forget. Jen left knowing her place of birth was still owned and run by the United States. It was not run down or even abandoned, but is now fully occupied as the consulate. As we drove away, we made a wrong turn and were forced to drive by on the other side of the consulate. Now, we thought, we must really look like we are up to something, all while trying to avoid those cameras so “they” don’t recognize us. Who were we kidding, "they" probably trailed us until we were out of sight.

Soon I was focused on our next venture. I was just hours away from seeing the place where I was born. I would find out that the place I have had pictured in my mind for so many years would be the exact opposite of the images I held. Who would have known at that moment that Jennifer was the lucky one. Even though her place of birth was heavily guarded it was still alive and still American. Next stop, Butzbach!

Mary, Sister of Scrappy Gen

Technorati Tags: Army,Frankfurt,Germany

Traveling Back in Time – Butzbach, Germany

Have you ever wished you could travel back in time to see that favorite someone? You know the person, the one who stayed for a little while, but left their footprints in your heart. Perhaps if you have never moved, you can’t understand this desire, but when you move a lot, there end up being several ‘someones’, who you would love to go back in time and visit.


This is a picture of me and my first two favorite people:




The woman’s name is Lina, but I called her Mutti (German for Mom). The girl leaning on her knee is her daughter. When we lived in Butzbach, near Frankfurt, Germany, my Mother had many duties to attend to as the wife of a young US Army officer. Lina took care of me for the first three years of my life before we moved back to the United States. According to my mother, I continued to ask for Lina for a long time after we had left.


As I mentioned here, my parents, sister and I will soon be traveling back to Butzbach and Frankfurt, Germany. We will visit the places we lived and will see the 97th Army Hospital, where I was born. You can read about the hospital on The USAREUR Military History Office website. My sister never made it to the hospital, she was in too much of a hurry to see the world.


While my parents were at our house recently, we decided to try to figure out if it was possible that Lina might still be living in the area. Luckily they remembered her old address in Butzbach. They had corresponded and exchanged photos until the late seventies.
How do you find someone living in Germany? First, I used Google Translate to get the German words for phonebook and directory. Then on Google, we searched for Butzbach Telefonbuch. We found the website and searched for Lina and her husband Walter. Up popped Walter at the same address where my parents had last written to Lina thirty years ago.


I am excited, but nervous to have found Walter. Many questions remain to be answered on our trip. What to do? I could write a letter asking about Lina or announcing our visit, but I am not sure if a letter would arrive in time. We will be right near her home. Should we just knock on the door? Should we call first? I had German in school, but speaking it on the phone for the first time, would feel like running a race without warming up. It’s been so long…, but I can still feel her footprints in my heart.


Thanks for reading!


Scrappy Gen