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Tutti’s Promise

A novel based on a family’s true story of courage and hope during the Holocaust

K. Heidi Fishman

MB PUBLISHING

Tutti’s Promise: A novel based on a family’s true story of courage and hope during the Holocaust

MB Publishing, LLC, www.mbpublishing.com

First Edition

Tutti’s Promise/by K. Heidi Fishman

p. cm.

Summary: Based upon actual recollections, documents, and interviews about their ordeal during the Holocaust in the Netherlands, this is the remarkable story of the Lichtenstern family— of their courage and perseverance, determination and hope— during the darkest days of human history.

ISBN, (paperback): 978-0-9908430-1-6

ISBN, e-book (epub): 978-0-9908430-9-2

ISBN, e-book (mobi): 978-0-9913646-6-4

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016918422

To learn more about this story, please visit www.kheidifishman.com. There you’ll find more photographs and historical documents, Ruth “Tutti” Lichtenstern Fishman’s video testimony, research links, and discussion questions.

Note to Readers:

While reading this story, you may refer to the Historical Notes section in the back of the book for further information and explanations.

For my mother, Ruth “Tutti” Lichtenstern Fishman.

Thank you for being an inspiration to so many and for showering your family with unconditional love.

— K. Heidi Fishman

Between 1938 and early 1940, Germany annexed Austria and Czechoslovakia and invaded Poland, Denmark, and Norway. In May 1940, Germany took over Belgium, Luxembourg, France, and the Netherlands.

Tutti with her parents, Margret and Heinz (1935)

Prologue

Tutti, eighty years old, was sitting outside the principal’s office.

She wasn’t a student, of course, but was a guest at the school. The principal had invited her to talk with the eighth-graders about her childhood under the Nazis.

This was not the first school Tutti had visited to tell her story, and so by now, she knew by heart what she wanted to say. The first time she had spoken to a group of children, she had carefully written out her talk on index cards. Now she left the cards at home.

My name is Ruth Lichtenstern Fishman, but everyone calls me Tutti, she always began. I was born on July 17, 1935, in Cologne, Germany.

Two years earlier, Adolph Hitler had come to power, and the Nazis started passing anti-Jewish laws, keeping Jews out of certain jobs and schools and burning books by Jewish authors. Then in September 1935, the Nazis told us that we were no longer German citizens.

My father and grandfather worked for a metals-trading company called Oxyde. The owner was Jewish, and he decided to move his business to the Netherlands. So in 1936, my family moved there, too. But four years later, we found out that we hadn’t moved far enough away from danger . . .

Tutti Lichtenstern Fishman, age 80

1

Invasion

May 10, 1940

Tutti awoke with a start. Robbie was crying. She heard strange sounds outside—big booms. Juffie, the nanny, was rocking two-year-old Robbie and trying to get him back to sleep. Tutti, nearly five years old, climbed out of bed and found Mammi and Pappi peering out the window in their pajamas.

“Mammi, what is that noise?” asked Tutti.

“Margret, look who’s here,” Heinz said. “Did all that commotion outside wake you, Tutti?”

“Yes, Pappi,” she answered, rubbing her eyes.

Mammi quickly picked her up. “Whatever it is, it’s far away,” she said. “Don’t be scared.”

Mammi brought Tutti back to the nursery and tucked her into bed. She collected Robbie from Juffie and patted his back until he settled down. Then she gently laid him in his bed and pulled the soft blanket up to his shoulders. She kissed Tutti on the forehead, smoothed her red curls, and picked her doll up off the floor, placing it next to her. “Gute Nacht,” she whispered. “Juffie will stay right here, so there’s no need to be frightened. I’ll let you know what all of this is about in the morning.”

* * *

But when the sun came up, with the buzz of airplane motors in the distance, Tutti became focused on something new. She wondered why the radio was on so early and why Pappi scowled and gripped the sides of his armchair as he listened to it. “Mammi, why is the radio on? What is Pappi listening to?”

“Shh, Tutti,” said Mammi. “Pappi needs to hear the news.”

“German troops have crossed the Dutch frontier and are in contact with our border forces. There have been landing attempts by enemy aircraft and paratroopers,” squawked the radio.

“Pappi, why is the radio so loud?” Tutti asked.

“Shh, Tutti,” Pappi insisted.

“Heinz, please turn down the radio,” said Mammi, lifting her eyebrows slightly. “The children are awake now,” she said, scooting them into the kitchen for breakfast.

“The bridges over the Meuse and IJssel have been destroyed.”

Robbie began to cry. Mammi picked him up and walked to the window.

“At least seventy German planes were shot down, with Germans using Dutch prisoners as cover.”

Tutti ran back to the living room. “Pappi, can we turn on some music? Robbie doesn’t like this man’s voice and neither do I.”

“Um Gottes Willen!” Pappi bellowed. “Margret, please keep the children with you. This news is important.” He got up to adjust the dial and remained standing beside the radio, scowling.

Mammi took Tutti by the hand and led her away, but it was impossible not to hear what the announcer was saying.

“Paratroopers have landed at strategic points near Rotterdam, The Hague, Amsterdam, and other large cities . . .”

All three sat at the table, but Mammi stood up a minute later. “Tutti, please help Robbie with his breakfast. Juffie’s not here. She left to make sure her sister is all right. I’ll be right back.” Mammi went into the living room and turned down the blaring radio, but she didn’t return to the table right away.

“And now I will read Queen Wilhelmina’s speech to the people of the Netherlands,” Tutti heard the announcer say. She listened carefully, but he said a lot of words she didn’t understand:

Tutti and Robbie Lichtenstern (1940)

“To my people! After our country has scrupulously maintained neutrality, last night the German troops suddenly attacked our territory without the slightest warning . . . . I herewith protest against this unprecedented violation of good faith and condemn the attack as a flagrant violation of international law and decency. My government and I will now do our duty. You must do yours with the utmost watchfulness and with inner calmness and devotion . . .”

Heinz turned off the radio and stood to give Margret a hug. “The phones aren’t working. We have to check on our parents,” he said.

“You’re right. They must be worried about us, too.”

“I’ll go to my parents’ apartment first and then Flo and Louis’s. It won’t take me long. I’ll be back in an hour or two,” Heinz said, squeezing his wife’s hand.

When Mammi came back into the kitchen, Tutti saw she had tears in her eyes. She hadn’t really understood what the announcer was saying, but she knew it wasn’t good news.

gute Nacht (goo•tuh nahkht): good night (German)

Juffie (yoo•fee): A nickname meaning “Missy” (Dutch)

Tutti (tu•tee; u, as in the oo in took): Ruth Lichtenstern’s nickname

um Gottes Willen (oom gawt•ehs vill•uhn): for God’s sake (German)

2

A Date with Uncle Bobby

Summer 1940

Within five days of the invasion, the Dutch army surrendered, and the Germans marched into Amsterdam. A small fraction of the population joined the Dutch Nazi Party (NSB), but hundreds of thousands of Netherlanders rebelled through acts of brave resistance—going on strike, creating underground newspapers, and hiding Jews. Some engaged in sabotage, such as cutting phone lines, destroying rail lines, and disabling German vehicles.

Those Jews who tried to flee were mostly unsuccessful. The country’s geography and the dangerous Nazi-infested North Sea made escape essentially impossible.

If only the land had had a different topography. If only it had not been devoid of mountains and forests, which would have provided sanctuary and cover. If only the surrounding countries had not already fallen under German control. Then the fate of the Jews in the Netherlands might have been much different than it was.

But Tutti was blissfully unaware of all this . . . and was especially happy one summer day after she turned five . . .

* * *

“Come, Tutti. Let’s get you dressed. Your uncle Bobby will be here soon.” Mammi opened the closet and easily slid the hangers across the rod one by one until she found the dress she was looking for. “How about this one?” She pulled out a blue dress with white trim. Tutti had worn it only a couple of times and just loved the way it swished around her legs when she twirled.

“Mammi, where is Uncle Bobby taking me to lunch?” Tutti was already shedding her play clothes.

“The Blauwe Theehuis in the Vondelpark. Do you think you’ll like that?”

“Oh, the Vondelpark!” Tutti jumped up and down. “Can we feed the ducks?”

“I’m sure you can.” Margret smiled at the child’s enthusiasm and felt her heart fill with love. For Tutti, little had changed since Germany’s invasion. But for Margret, there was tremendous concern: How would each new policy affect them? The Nazis had recently ordered Jewish-owned businesses to hang up signs that read “Jewish business.” How would Heinz’s job be affected? And how would she keep her family safe?

Margret held the dress for Tutti to step into and then buttoned up the back. She watched as Tutti spun around and her little dress flared out. How simple things could bring her child such joy! Margret would do whatever it took to make sure that Tutti could enjoy these little pleasures—a new dress and lunch with her handsome young uncle—and not have to worry about the war. She helped Tutti with her socks and shoes and completed the outfit with her new coat. Just as they were buttoning it, there was a knock at the door.

Tutti about to leave on her date with Margret’s brother, Tutti’s Uncle Bobby

“Uncle Bobby!” Tutti ran to Bobby and threw her body into his open arms. Bobby, dressed in a blue suit and striped tie, his hair smartly parted to the side, lifted a package above his head so Tutti’s embrace wouldn’t crush it. He laughed at her exuberance and returned the hug.

“Is that present for me?” Tutti asked.

“No, sweetheart, this gift is for Robbie. It’s a pony.”

“Oh, he’ll like that. But why can’t I have a present too, Uncle Bobby?” she protested.

“I’m taking you out to lunch. I brought this for your brother since he’s too little to join us. Now which would you rather have, a present or an afternoon out with your favorite uncle?”

Tutti thought it would be nice to have both but understood that it wasn’t something to say out loud. Anyway, she soon forgot all about Robbie’s present because the afternoon was so much fun. She felt like a teenager on a first date. Her uncle ordered them pancakes with jam. Tutti tried to remember all the manners her parents had taught her. She put her napkin on her lap and didn’t use her fingers to eat her pancake, except once. The hardest rule to remember—because she had so much to tell her uncle—was not to talk with her mouth full!

For dessert, Bobby ordered a whole tray of little cakes—with pink and white and yellow icing, and little candied violets and tiny silver balls. They were so beautiful she could hardly stand to eat them. “Enjoy them now, Tuttchen,” her uncle said, taking a bite of one. “If this war goes on, there won’t be so many nice things to eat.”

When Bobby finished his coffee, they strolled to the pond. Tutti crouched by the water’s edge and watched how the ducklings followed their mother around. “Are you and Aunt Tineke going to have a baby, Uncle Bobby?”

“Someday . . . that’s certainly the hope. Why do you ask, Tutti?”

“Well, because then I could have a cousin to play with,” she said, throwing a handful of crumbs to the ducks. “All of mine live far away. Why did everyone move to England?”

Bobby looked uncomfortable. “Oh, Tutti, people move for lots of reasons.” He threw the last of the crumbs into the water and brushed off his hands, one against the other. “Maybe your mammi can explain it better than I can. But you know what? I’ll see what I can do about having a baby soon—just for you.”

Blauwe Theehuis (blau tay•house): Blue Teahouse (Dutch)

Tuttchen (tuhtch•ehn): An endearing nickname for Tutti (German)

3

Egbert

Early October 1940

Heinz was startled by the ringing phone. He looked at the clock—eleven thirty. Jumping out of bed, he grabbed his robe and hurried to the study to see who was calling.

“Hallo?”

“Heinz, this is Egbert. I need to talk with you.”

Egbert de Jong was Heinz’s friend and colleague, someone he had known for years. But a call like this, especially at this time of night, was quite unusual.

Before the German invasion, Egbert had worked for the Dutch government as the state minister in charge of nonferrous (non-iron) metals. As a metals trader, Heinz interacted with him constantly, and the two men had become true friends.

“Egbert, now? It’s almost midnight.”

“Ja. I know. Sorry, but this is important. I’d like to come and meet with you tomorrow.”

“Sure, come to the office—”

“No, this isn’t something to be discussed at the office. It’s better if I come to your house tomorrow. Tell Margret not to fuss.”

* * *

The next afternoon, Margret served biscuits and coffee to Heinz and Egbert, who tapped his foot and played with his spoon, hardly touching his cup. Margret did her best to pretend not to notice and tried to make small talk, but the conversation flagged.

“Egbert, what is it? What do you need to discuss with me?” said Heinz finally.

“It’s a long story and I hardly know where to begin,” his friend replied. “Can we go into your study and speak alone? Margret, please excuse us. I don’t want to bore you with shoptalk.”

Heinz closed the door to the study and motioned for Egbert to sit down, more puzzled and more apprehensive than ever. He’d had trouble getting back to sleep after Egbert’s phone call the night before, and now his head ached. “Please, Egbert, you must explain.” And Egbert finally did.

The Germans had asked him to stay on as their German state minister for nonferrous metals in the Netherlands and guide the Dutch metals trade for Hitler’s regime, the Third Reich. Heinz was not surprised; Egbert was highly educated—fluent in five languages—and had polished manners. He was also extraordinarily good at his job in the metals industry.

“I thought it over long and hard, and I have accepted the job,” Egbert said. Somewhat uncomfortably, he added, “You understand it’s not because I want to help the Germans, but I felt I had no choice. And I think—I hope—that I might someday be able to do something to stymie them.”

Heinz said nothing. He was trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“Heinz, let me bring you up to date,” Egbert went on. “The Germans have appointed a Paul Zimmermann as the commissioner for the Office of Reichs Metal. This Nazi general likes me—trusts me. Heaven knows why . . . I must be a good actor. Anyway, over the course of the past few months, this General Zimmermann has become convinced that I am completely behind the Nazi cause.”

“Egbert, that’s ridiculous!”

“Well, of course it is, Heinz! But it’s a good thing he thinks so, because now he trusts me with incredibly sensitive information—which is why I’m here. Three weeks ago, Zimmermann summoned me to Berlin for a meeting. When we met, he told me about the Nazis’ plan for the Netherlands.”

Heinz sat up straighter in his seat as his friend continued: “Zimmermann swore me to secrecy, but I can’t keep this a secret. It’s too horrendous. He said that the Germans are planning to take over all businesses that are run by Jews. First, the firms will have to register; then, Aryan directors and supervisors will be appointed. Once they are in control of the companies, they will ship the Jewish workers and owners to Poland.”

“So they are going to steal our livelihoods right out from under us?” asked Heinz.

“Heinz, you aren’t listening. They aren’t merely going to take your job—they are going to send you to Poland! All Jews are to be deported and forced to live in ghettos or assigned to work camps or . . .” Egbert didn’t finish his sentence. He simply grimaced and shook his head.

Heinz Lichtenstern

Unbelievable! Unthinkable! Heinz was out of his chair and pacing around the study now. Forced deportations? Work camps? No, it wasn’t possible. “Egbert, there are over 140,000 Jews in this country. They can’t possibly . . .”

“Heinz, that’s their plan. You’ve heard the news. You know how bad it is already. Jews by the thousands are being forced to live in ghettos in Poland. They are cut off from the outside world. There are reports of starvation, beatings, shootings, and epidemics in these ghettos. Italy and Japan recently signed a pact with Germany. Vichy France has devised its own laws to discriminate against Jews. No place is safe anymore. These brutes want to take over the entire world with their sick ideology. All they care about is power . . . and that means they’re ruthless. All people whom these Nazi thugs consider inferior are in danger—especially the Jews. But . . . I think I can protect you.”

“How?” Heinz asked. His head hurt and he was struggling to process what Egbert was saying.

“This is how I figure it. The Germans will need metal for their war. You are the leading metals trader in the country. I will tell them that you are essential.”

“Egbert, I don’t want to help the Germans!”

“You don’t have to, at least not too much. We just need them to think you’re assisting. I’m going to talk with Josef Sax from Hoogovens Steel, as well. Do you know him?”

Heinz nodded. “He’s a good man.”

“And I was thinking about Leopold Oberländer. What do you think of him?”

“Egbert, Oberländer is exceptionally smart. He knows everything about manufacturing. I think he even holds some patents.”

“Good . . . then I can protect them this way, too. I’ve already put in an urgent request with the authorities for you to come to my office in The Hague. Since you are now acting director of Oxyde, this shouldn’t seem an unreasonable request. I want the Germans to see that I consider you indispensable.”

“All right, Egbert. I trust you. And I appreciate your wanting to help me. But I also want to see if I can get to England or America.”

“It’s too late for that, Heinz!” said Egbert.

Heinz hung his head and rubbed his eyes.

Egbert was pained at seeing his friend’s distress. “Heinz, maybe I’m wrong,” he said. “Perhaps there will be a way.”

The friends clasped hands before leaving Heinz’s study to rejoin Margret, who was reading to the children. Egbert bent down to give Tutti and Robbie a parting kiss on their foreheads and then embraced Margret and Heinz in turn. “Stay strong, you two,” he whispered. “And stay safe. We’ll get through this.”

hallo (hah•loa): hello (Dutch)

ja (yah): yes (Dutch)

4

Entrust

March 1941

After his meeting with Egbert, Heinz had only one thing on his mind: money. Every cent mattered. He made phone calls. He talked with his closest friends. As the months passed, he counted every guilder.

Egbert’s plan—for the Germans to regard Heinz as an indispensable metals expert—was well and good, but Heinz had plans of his own: Egbert was going to help him protect his family—and save his friends. He would be ready if Egbert’s request for him to travel to The Hague was approved.

It was a long winter of waiting. And as he waited, he felt the Nazis tightening their noose around his neck. That fall, the Germans began requiring that businesses owned by Jews, or having one Jewish partner or director, be registered. Egbert had been right. As 1940 turned to 1941, the Germans ordered that all radios be registered. And in February, after a Dutch Nazi was killed by a Jew, over 400 Jews were rounded up and deported from Amsterdam. Heinz couldn’t wait any longer—he had to put his plan into action now.

* * *

“Mr. de Jong, this is Heinz Lichtenstern.” He was calling Egbert from the office and was aware that anything he said might be heard by Egbert’s supervisor. His friend’s phone could be bugged, or Zimmermann could be sitting in the office right next to Egbert.

“Ah, Lichtenstern. Good to hear from you,” replied Egbert. “How can I help?”

“I have an important matter to discuss with you,” Heinz replied. “You told me to keep you informed of all possible sources for different alloys. I’ve identified a potential prospect, and I’m afraid that if we wait much longer, we might lose out. The deal might get taken by another buyer.”

“Lichtenstern, I knew I could count on you. You have good instincts. Shall I come to Amsterdam later today?”

“Yes, as soon as you can. I need your advice on this particular opportunity.”

When he hung up the phone, he sighed with relief. Egbert knew what he was talking about, but the Nazis wouldn’t.

* * *

While Heinz waited for Egbert to arrive, he paced the floor. He went to the window constantly and looked for his friend. What if Egbert didn’t come alone? What if he brought a supervisor? Then his whole plan would fall apart.

Margret brought him a small glass of brandy, and he sat down without uttering a word. The brandy was strong and warmed his throat and chest. He needed this. He reached into his pocket for his cigarettes and then remembered he had smoked the last one on the way home from the office. His hands shook as he took another sip of the brandy.

“Margret, do we have any more cigarettes?”

She left the room and returned with half a pack. What would he ever do without her?

When at last the bell rang, Heinz saw that Egbert was not alone. With him were his wife, Jo, and his three daughters. “Goedendag!” said Egbert as the family came into the house and out of the early spring rain.

“Egbert, I was worried. You’re an hour late.”

“The trains aren’t as reliable as they used to be, Heinz.”

“Margret, Jo—Egbert and I need to discuss business first. We’ll join you ladies for a coffee later.”

While Tutti led Egbert’s daughters to her room to play, Margret and Jo made their way to the kitchen. Once the two men were in the study, Heinz slid shut the heavy pocket door and handed Egbert a thick envelope. Egbert peered inside and his eyes widened. “How much is this?”

“It’s 130,000 guilders. It’s all the money I’ve been able to scrape together over the past five months.”

“What do you want me to do with it?”

“I want you to take care of it for me. When we left Germany in 1936, the Nazis took nearly everything. They only allowed me to leave with a small fraction of what I owned. They called it a flight tax for emigrating. I called it highway robbery. They will come after my money again. You told me so yourself. Please take this.”

“Heinz, this is a lot of money. Are you sure?”

“Egbert, I actually thought that when we moved to Amsterdam, we would be all right. Can you believe it?” Heinz gave something between a laugh and a snort and then crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. “I thought they would leave this country alone. I should have followed my brother and taken Margret and the children to England. I made a mistake.” Heinz cleared his throat and looked straight into the eyes of his friend. “I beg you.” His voice cracked, and he hesitated. He knew that what he was about to ask could put his friend in danger, but he was desperate. “Egbert, do you know Jakob Jorysch in Basel?”

Egbert de Jong at his office in The Hague

“Of course. I did plenty of deals with him when I was still a trader myself. But what does he have to do with this?”

“There are ways to procure passports for South American countries. If you can contact him . . .”

“You don’t have to say another word,” Egbert said. “I understand. I will protect your money and use it to get you a passport if I can.”

“Egbert, not only me—all of my friends at Oxyde! My parents. Margret’s parents. Look. Here, I have another envelope for you. But you have to be even more cautious with this one.”

Egbert took the envelope and glanced inside. It contained several small photos, each with a name and a birthdate written on the back.

Heinz continued to speak as Egbert shuffled through the photos. “All these families contributed to that pile of money I gave you. Use the money. Use it to help us get out of here. But don’t let this envelope with the pictures fall into the wrong hands. It could land you in one of those camps we’re all trying to avoid.”

“You can trust me. I’ll do this. And I’ll return whatever is left after this war is finished and life is normal again.”

“That day can’t come soon enough,” replied Heinz. “Let’s find Jo and Margret and have a drink.”

guilders (gil•ders): Dutch currency (Dutch)

goedendag (hoo•den•dakh): good day (Dutch)