Nazi Refugee Turned Gestapo Spy: The Life of Hans Wesemann, 1895-1971

NAZI REFUGEE TURNED GESTAPO SPY

NAZI REFUGEE TURNED GESTAPO SPY THE LIFE OF HANS WESEMANN, 1895–1971 JAMES J. BARNES AND PATIENCE P. BARNES

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Barnes, James J. Nazi refugee turned Gestapo spy : the life of Hans Wesemann, 1895–1971 / James J. Barnes and Patience P. Barnes. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–275–97124–4 (alk. paper) 1. Wesemann, Hans, 1895– 2. Spies—Germany—Biography. 3. Espionage, German—Great Britain—History—20th century. 4. World War, 1939–1945—Secret service—Germany. I. Barnes, Patience P. II. Title. UB271.G32 W473 2001 940.54′8743—dc21 00–061127 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 2001 by James J. Barnes and Patience P. Barnes All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 00–061127 ISBN: 0–275–97124–4 First published in 2001 Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.praeger.com Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Copyright Acknowledgments The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge permission to use the following material: Excerpts from the letters of Ernst Toller to M. M. Meloney, 18 and 28 March and 27 April 1935, Marie M. Meloney Papers, Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University. Reprinted by permission of Columbia University. Excerpts from the letter of William Gillies to Walter Citrine, 29 October 1943, reprinted with permission of the Labour Party History Archive and Study Centre, John Rylands University of Manchester, Manchester, England. Excerpts from the letter of John A. Schmitz to Arthur Jacobs, 23 July 1989, quoted with the permission of John A. Schmitz. Excerpts of Werner Kohlberg file K484/2 reprinted with permission of the Home Office, London, England.

TO SAM AND CLARA

CONTENTS Acknowledgments

xi

1

Ambivalent Youth, 1895–1932

1

2

Enigmatic Exile, March 1933–August 1934

25

3

Émigré Turncoat, September 1934–February 1935

51

4

The Abduction of Berthold Jacob, March 1935

71

5

Gestapo Activity Abroad, 1933–1935

85

6

The Suspicious Deaths of Dora Fabian and Mathilde Wurm

93

7

Refugee Reaction to the Jacob Kidnapping

103

8

Settlement by Arbitration? May–September 1935

119

9

The Trial and Its Aftermath, 1936–1938

131

Latin American Interlude, 1938–1941

139

10

x

Contents

11

Internment, 1942–1945

153

12

Resisting Deportation to Germany, 1946–1948

159

Epilogue, 1948–1971

173

Index

177

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS We would first like to thank Stefan Kreisher for his vital help in assisting us with a variety of German texts, many of which were supplied by the efficient staff at the Staatsarchiv in Basel. Similar valuable help with these materials was given to us by Ingeborg Bohnet-Gomez. We owe a substantial debt to the librarians at the Public Record Office in Kew as well as to the staff at the Institut für Zeitgeschichte in Munich. John M. Lloyd and David Gale deserve special mention for their cooperation in accessing previously classified documents at the Home Office in London. Special thanks are due to Dr. Maria Keipert at the German Foreign Ministry in Bonn, and to those at the Berlin Document Center, now known as Bundesarchiv III, who welcomed us as researchers over the years, and always provided careful responses to our many inquiries. Also very cooperative were the Bundesarchiv in Koblenz and the National Archives in Washington, D.C., and College Park, Maryland, in readily accessing their files relating to the Gestapo and other Nazi organizations. James Cassedy of the Suitland Reference Branch of the U.S. National Archives was particularly painstaking in gathering and photocopying documents relating to the internment of enemy aliens and policies of the Immigration and Naturalization Service. A former student and graduate of Wabash College, Timothy Padgett, who was until recently the Bureau Chief for Newsweek magazine in Latin America, together with his wife, Yolaluis Perez-Padgett, and his father-

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in-law, Luis Perez Cabez, were crucial in locating the death certificate of Hans Wesemann. For assistance in providing information about his extended family, we want to thank Fredrik M. Wesemann of Caracas. Elizabeth Agnew Frye and Robert McElroy diligently scanned Die Welt am Montag and other German newspapers for articles written by Hans Wesemann. We are grateful to our old friend and college classmate, Seth Dubin, and his colleagues at Saterlee Stephens Burke and Burke in New York City who joined our search for Federal cases and decisions involving postwar deportations of enemy aliens; and to the Manuscript Library of the University of Arizona and the Library of Northwestern University’s School of Law, for information about George C. Dix, the New York lawyer who specialized in deportation cases. We are much obliged to Arthur Jacobs and John A. Schmitz who generously shared their experiences while in Texas internment camps during World War II. On a year-round basis we would like to thank the library staff, colleagues, and associates at Wabash College who have unceasingly supported our intense research efforts; also Gigi Herbert and Elaine Greenlee for their reliable help with the original manuscript, and Patricia Galloway Bachner and Bridgie Hackstaff Brelsford for assisting us in the preparation of the final typescript. Finally, our gratitude to our son-in-law, Richard Edgar Wilson, who took time from his professional singing career to proofread the text in its early stages; and to our many far-flung friends and family who continue to express their interest in, and encouragement of, our historical sleuthing.

1

AMBIVALENT YOUTH, 1895–1932 Hans Walter Wesemann was born on 27 November 1895 in Nienburg, Germany, a town on the Weser River near Hanover, where his father, Fritz Wesemann, was also born.1 His mother, née Margarethe Haars, came from the nearby town of Schöppenstedt. The couple had three children besides Hans: Sigrid, Grete, and Friedrich. The family lived on a large farm which his father had inherited. For his primary and secondary education Hans went to a local Realgymnasium and successfully passed the examinations required for the Abitur on 4 August 1914, the day Germany sent its troops into Belgium. He volunteered for military service the very next day, and was assigned to an artillery regiment in the Prussian army. While serving on the Eastern Front in January 1915 he contracted typhoid fever and was taken to a military hospital at Skeiiermnievice in Poland where he stayed for a month until he was sent back to Germany, first to a hospital in Hohensalza, and later to one in his home town of Nienburg. By September he was able to rejoin his unit again, this time on the Western Front. During the next three years he served with distinction, and in November 1918 he was named an officer. When he mustered out of the army, he received three decorations for valor as well as the Iron Cross, 2nd class, but was left with an injury to his left hand whereby his index finger would not bend. He wrote about his regiment during the last days of the war:

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On the 10th of November, 1918, in the rainy dawn, my artillery battery marches towards Mons. The mud squelches beneath our boots. . . . The smell of smoke and feces hangs in the air. To the right a large village is on fire. The fields are covered with marching columns of infantry. Swarms of crows accompany us. Sometimes shots ring out in the fog. That is our rear guard which is still exchanging blows with Tommy. It is a day like any other since we began our retreat from the Oser Canal to here.2

As the battery’s lieutenant, Wesemann was charged with finding somewhere to bed down for the night and locating his staff officers who had been missing for the past four days. In Mons all hell has broken loose. The streets are crowded. Wounded soldiers are lying on the ground in the market place. The rain continues falling. A group of Belgian prisoners passes by, escorted by German police. I can hardly believe my ears. The prisoners were singing: “Ah pourquoi cette guerre, les hommes sont tous des frères.” And then they sing the Internationale. A woman approaches and hands some bread to one of the prisoners. A policeman strikes her. Then he pulls his revolver and aims it at the prisoners. A giant cuirassier grabs his arm and says, “Leave them alone,” and silently the column moves on.

At a provisions office in the center of town, a perspiring inspector handed out tinned food to the throngs of waiting soldiers. Elsewhere the business of military evacuation went on relentlessly. “Before a large factory, carts are lined up filled with copper and brass pots and tubs. On the side of one wagon is chalked: ‘transport to Cologne.’” Wesemann finally found lodging for his men in an abandoned monastery, the former headquarters of the War Cemetery Commission. Not a soul is in sight. Everything has been cleared out. However in the stables, hundreds of soldiers are sleeping atop rotting straw and human excrement. It is hard to believe that human beings can endure breathing such stench. . . . It is all over, and none of us know what to do next.

When Wesemann eventually located his weary fellow officers, they passed the evening together in despair. There are many fires in the city and in the distance the sound of artillery shells. Above us we hear the engines of enemy aircraft. We huddle together in a small room and smoke. No one speaks. Only Friders, our communications officer, cheerfully occupies himself writing a letter to his wife, as he does every night. This despite there being no postal service for days. We all know that he continues to avoid danger, but even so he has been wounded three times and his nerves are shot.

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Suddenly a dispatch-rider appeared with orders to go into action. There were loud protests that they had no ammunition. “So what, orders are orders,” barked the messenger, to which our Oberleutenant told him, “Go to hell.” At this moment we are all traitors, as well as also being hun gry, thirsty and angry. And the worst of it is that no one knows what is going on; only that we cannot carry on this way; that is all we know.

Amidst talk of mutiny and utter despair, the battalion was told to prepare for inspection by the Lieutenant-General early the next morning. They are all either very young, born in 1901, or very old. There are 520 of us left out of the 1,200 who were sent into action last August at the Chemin des Dames. . . . We almost come to blows when suddenly Friders, who normally never joins in our conversations, says: “Gentlemen, why fight? The war is lost and over. The most important thing now is to stay alive for the sake of Germany, which will need us hereafter.”

Following the inspection, the General read a proclamation announcing that the Kaiser had abdicated, and that the armistice would begin officially at noon that day. “Then a huge barrage opens up on both sides of the line, as the dying war is given a final salute. Flares rise into the sky; it is quite a show. Fortunately we are no longer concerned.” Meanwhile, Friders went forward to view the front, now that it was safe, and was hit five minutes before the ceasefire. “Strangely enough he looked very peaceful. He must have died quickly. We took him back to Germany with us in a zinc coffin made from a bath tub.” So ended Wesemann’s war; a war filled with ironies which haunted him the rest of his life. On becoming a civilian again Hans tried to interest the radical socialist leaders, Ernst Dämig and Georg Ledebour, in hiring him as an activist and publicist, but they spurned his overtures, regarding him as just one of thousands of postwar youths who were otherwise unemployed and at odds with society. His idealism rejected, he decided to enroll in the University of Berlin. In January 1919 the capital city presented a far different face from what it had before the war. Monumental changes were occurring daily. It was no longer the Berlin of Kaiser Wilhelm II and the Hohenzollerns. The monarch had been forced to abdicate, and Germany was now under the shaky rule of a highly unstable Provisional Government. The city was in turmoil, reeling from political and social unrest that frequently broke into violent confrontations between extremists on the Left and Right.

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As a student, Wesemann took a wide range of subjects from a distinguished group of university professors: Max Hermann (literary history and art history); Edmond Georg Schneider (bibliography); Otto E. G. Hoetzsch (history); Richard Freund (history); Oskar Fischel (art history); and Gustav Roethe (German literature). After four semesters, he transferred to the University of Freiburg where he listened to lectures by Hans Heiss (French literature); Paul Mombert (economic history); and Hans Jantzen (art history). His dissertation, “Contributions toward the History of Social Lyric Poetry in Germany,” was supervised by Prof. Philipp Witkop, a specialist in the history of German literature. While he worked on his thesis he began submitting articles to the left-wing daily Berlin newspaper Vorwärts. The paper closely identified itself with the Independent Socialist Party which broke away from the mainstream Social Democratic Party (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, or SPD) in 1914 over Germany going to war, and afterwards refused to merge with either the SPD, the Spartacists, or the German Communist Party. The party as well as the newspaper regarded themselves Marxist, not Communist. One of Wesemann’s first articles, published in June 1921,3 established the style he adopted in many of his later contributions: he began by describing an innocuous scene which gradually led into a discussion of a social, economic, or political problem. For example, while he was strolling along the bucolic shore of the Wannsee in the outskirts of Berlin he came upon a moss-covered and neglected tombstone of one of Germany’s great literary figures, Heinrich von Kleist. This put him in mind of how Germany, to its peril, was ignoring its high cultural tradition, and he insinuated that there was a parallel between the lack of recognition accorded von Kleist during his lifetime and his untimely death by his own hand. The following September, writing about pacifism, a subject dear to his own heart as well as holding a central place in the ideology of the Independent Socialists, he began by describing a walk he had taken at noontime on the Under den Linden.4 Gradually, amidst the sounds of automobile and streetcar traffic, he heard a marching band approaching. Onlookers eagerly sought the source of the martial music, and admired the smart uniforms of the Lieutenant and his soldiers as they passed by. As a familiar sight during the Hohenzollern monarchy, the scene rekindled a palpable sense of nostalgia. Then, all of a sudden, two youths pushed their way heedlessly through the crowd in pursuit of the band, nearly knocking down a blind war veteran. A taxi driver, slowing to catch a glimpse of the parade, was reminded of his wartime loss, “It makes me think, now that both my boys are dead.”

Ambivalent Youth

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In a similar tone, Wesemann wrote about the published memoirs of General Erich Ludendorff, a war hero who was a favorite target of the Left. With scarcely concealed contempt, he scoffs at Ludendorff’s claim that he “won the war,” and adds bitterly, “He did win it too; only the Ger man people lost it because they were so careless as to starve to death before victory was achieved.” 5 During most of 1922 Wesemann was preoccupied with finishing his dissertation, but once it was done he went away on holiday to the Austrian town of Innsbruck where he wrote an article describing the effects of the dissolution of the Hapsburg monarchy. “It cannot be denied that the days of imperial splendor are gone forever.” 6 He attributed the drabness and decay he saw to the new republican form of government, which, together with Germany, had been assessed heavy wartime reparations. On 11 January 1923 the Ruhr was occupied by a contingent of French and Belgian troops because Germany had defaulted on its reparations payments. With the mines closed and production stopped, the mark, which was already under immense pressure, gave way, and hyperinflation ran rampant. One American dollar was eventually worth 4 trillion Marks. The disruption and dissention caused by the occupation of the Ruhr gave the parties of the Right and Left an opportunity to exploit the fast-growing economic chaos. In Munich, Adolph Hitler rallied his storm troopers in a protest against Berlin’s inability to cope with the monetary crisis; and the Communists noisily threatened a general strike. By contrast, Wesemann found conditions in Basel, Switzerland, lavish.7 Upon his arrival there he was immediately drawn to the offerings of food in the platform buffet: fresh fruit, luscious sandwiches, and creamy pastries. However, since payment for these had to be made in hard Swiss currency, he couldn’t enjoy any of them because he was carrying only depreciated German marks. Frustrated, he pulled from his pocket the roll and butter he had brought with him, and reflected ruefully that since the war, “dear old poor Germany” had managed to become united again “in its common poverty.” His meeting with the playwright Ernst Toller was the highlight of his visit. At first Wesemann despaired of being allowed to interview Toller because he was in the Nieder-Schoenenfels prison as a result of being labelled a Communist agitator who had set up a socialist government in Bavaria in 1919. Wesemann risked taking a train to Munich and walking several miles to the prison which looked picturesque from a distance, but as he got near he saw that it was surrounded by barbed wire, armed guards, and watchdogs.8 The Warden viewed Wesemann with suspicion and warned him that Toller was an especially dangerous inmate, although

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Wesemann knew him to be a harmless poet. The warden was eventually persuaded that Wesemann was a genuine journalist, and gave him permission to interview Toller, provided that a prison officer was present and that Wesemann agreed not to discuss any sensitive political issues. The ludicrousness of the situation was compounded when guards examined the small bouquet of wildflowers Wesemann had brought with him for hidden weapons or secret messages. He was escorted through six doors, each of which was ceremoniously unlocked and relocked, until he finally arrived at the room where Toller was being held. The two men talked about literature and discussed the writing Toller had been doing, which Wesemann described as “very easy-going, sweet sounding and dreamy; a rapturous flight of the soul soaring above captivity and loneliness. His time in solitary confinement had focused his poetry upon his only companions outdoors, the swallows.” Upon leaving, Wesemann shuddered at the thought of ever being imprisoned himself. “Then I went out into freedom and he stayed behind. I did not look back. I knew the prison was behind me.” Achieving this interview with Toller was a journalistic coup, and for the next nine months, from September 1923 through May 1924, Wesemann enjoyed the notoriety that came from publishing feature articles in Vorwärts from one to three times each month. From Berlin, he wrote about a wide variety of subjects of human interest, including crime in the streets, linguistic accents in Lower Saxony, and a biblical scholar who determined that the Garden of Eden had originated in the German state of Mecklenburg. Ridiculing the extremes to which the authorities were beginning to go because of their fear of street violence between gangs of communist and Nazi youths, he repeated a story about a lavatory attendant who was arrested because she had a stack of left-wing newspapers as replacements for her regular supply of lavatory paper. In the spring of 1924 Wesemann returned to Nienburg.9 He had not been home for ten years, and on the surface many things seemed the same, like the churchyard with its huge oak tree in the middle, and little girls dancing around it. The old fire engine was still parked next to the church, ready for small boys to climb onto and pretend whizzing off at the sound of an alarm. As he entered Herr Bassman’s grocery shop, Rex the dog growled his familiar and menacing greeting. Passing the hotel where Herr Knüppel gave dancing lessons, he re-lived his humiliation at being asked to waltz with the teacher while the girls looked on and giggled. Yes, many of these same girls are still in town, though they have grown up, with their blonde braids and starched dresses. The only things missing are the chaper-

Ambivalent Youth

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ons. That was always the worst part of the evening, when they would gather for coffee after the lessons and critique our dancing and arrange possible marriages for us.

On the street he saw his former math teacher, Herr Klütjen, strolling with his wife, and Wesemann overheard him whisper, “That is the student who did not even know who Pythagoras was.” His parents were no longer there, however. They had sold the family farm and moved to Schöppenstedt, his mother’s birthplace, and his father now served as a Lutheran pastor. Only his old nurse remained to welcome him. “How delighted she was to see me so grown up. . . . And where did I now live?” On hearing Berlin, she cried, “Oh God, my poor boy, so far away, so far away. It is so hard for you with all you have to endure there.” Her words served to remind him that he had radically changed his perspective, and not all Germans now thought of Berlin as the charmed city he did. In June 1924 Vorwärts asked Wesemann to go to Geneva as their reporter covering the League of Nations. Germany was not a member of the League, but her future depended on what was transpiring there. Upon arriving in Geneva he was struck by the lack of books and magazines in German being offered for sale, and walked the streets searching for something to read, but all he could find were English newspapers, glossy French volumes, and guidebooks to Persia and Japan. Then finally, at a railway station bookstall, he found some titles by the popular German novelist, Hedwig Courths-Mahler (1867–1950) costing two Marks-fifty pfennigs each. It both amused and appalled him that these were the only books in German that he could find in Europe’s most cosmopolitan city, and he remarked sarcastically in one of his columns that perhaps their author should be appointed Minister of Culture.10 While most of the other foreign correspondents covering the League sent dispatches to their papers describing the disarmament debates, Wesemann forwarded to Vorwärts interviews he had conducted with the French playwright and novelist Romain Roland, and the American child movie star, Jackie Coogan.11 Because of troubling rumors filtering back to Berlin about Wesemann’s unpaid bills and unorthodox lifestyle, Victor Schiff, the foreign editor of Vorwärts, decided to go to Geneva. At that time I had heard others express negative opinions about him, especially from other journalists resident in Geneva. On the one hand he had run up debts to various people, especially to Adolf Muller, the German Minister at Bern and a member of the Social Democratic Party. On the other hand there were allusions to

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his unsavory morals, particulars of which were furnished me by, among others, a young woman who had for a time been engaged to him.12

There was also gossip that Wesemann was a homosexual, based on allegations by the proprietors of the Pension Bonnard at 8 rue du Leman where he was a lodger. A Swiss police report later acknowledged that much of the evidence was based on hearsay, but the accusation was damaging enough to cause him to lose his job with Vorwärts.13 In spite of this, Wesemann was able to stay in Geneva and continue as a part-time journalist for the German news service, the SozialDemokratisches Parlamentsdienst, and once the police report exonerating Wesemann on the morals charge was released, Victor Schiff reinstated him as a reporter and columnist for Vorwärts, and sent him to the Italian city of Locarno to cover the peace conference there. He was immediately caught up in the excitement of preparing for the influx of dignitaries, and described how the roads were being hastily repaired, hotels were vying with each other for guests, and taxi drivers were charging whatever they could get away with. “Here is where world history will be made,” he wrote. Visiting journalists were given deluxe accommodation in a palace where they not only had space to write, but were provided with telegraphy to transmit their articles directly to their papers throughout the world. Wesemann observed that for the first time in a long while Germans were greeted warmly. A waiter offered his opinion that “Germany will make its comeback.” 14 Feeling a renewed sense of optimism, Wesemann began to court a young Jewish girl, Ilse Meyer, who also worked for Vorwärts. She was the daughter of Rose Speyer and Adolf Meyer, owners of a prosperous fur business in Leipzig. They were married in May 1926 when he was thirty years old, and she, only nineteen. The marriage lasted a short six months, but they maintained contact with each other for many years.15 Whatever sparked their marital difficulties, and there was speculation that his unorthodox behavior initiated the rift, leaving Europe at this time presented an attractive option for Wesemann, and he eagerly accepted the offer to be a correspondent in Rio de Janeiro for the Berlin newspaper, Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung.16 There had long been a large German presence in Brazil. In the nineteenth century, 15,000–20,000 settled in the state of Sao Paulo; 80,000 in Mina Geraes; and sixteen colonies developed in South Brazil (Parana, Santa Catarina, and Rio Grande do Sul). These German communities retained their own language, customs, and loyalties, and became rivals of the native Portuguese, Indians, and Africans for valuable land and jobs.

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Wesemann traveled by sea, arriving in Rio de Janeiro on 27 November 1926, but within days he contracted malaria. The staff at the Hotel Central where he was staying watched nervously as he grew weaker, and eventually they decided to call a German-speaking Catholic priest, Father Bernhard Wienhold, to administer last rites. Unaccountably, after making a “deathbed” conversion from Lutheranism, in which he had been brought up, he revived and left the hotel (without paying his bill). That same day he was admitted to a local hospital where he convalesced until the new year. Malarial fever, as well as this religious conversion, figure significantly in his later life.17 When he had sufficient strength to resume writing, he submitted several articles to another Berlin paper, Die Weltbühne, whose editor, Carl von Ossietsky, was the leader of a group of pacifist, anti-militarist, and anti-nationalist humanitarians. Since European liberalism and old-style Prussianism were subject to ridicule by his editor, Wesemann’s stories depicting the German diplomatic corps as stiff and overly formal were welcome in the pages of Die Weltbühne. It wasn’t long until he found himself at odds with the established German community in Rio as a result of committing a series of faux pas. While covering the arrival of the former German Reich Chancellor, Hans Luther, whom he had met in Geneva, he overreached himself and exploited their acquaintance to make it seem as if their friendship was of longstanding. He went even further in offering for sale to the German Embassy a set of vignettes describing world leaders he had observed when covering the League of Nations.18 Another time, after attending a breakfast reception at the residence of the German Minister, Hubert Knipping, who was well known for his hospitality, he published a mean-spirited article criticizing the German Legation.19 Wesemann’s unpopularity in the German community in Rio must have given him greater impetus to look beyond the capital for journalistic leads, because he began writing articles about other German communities scattered throughout the country. The first of these was the colony of Blumenau, located in the southern state of Santa Catarina and named after its founder, a German Jewish physician. Wesemann soon realized that an eccentric German ex-patriot, Eugene Fouquet, currently dominated the region. Fouquet was the editor of a newspaper, the Urwaldbote (Jungle Messenger), which was read in several German colonies.20 He had emigrated to Brazil in the 1890s, and settled in an area two miles from the edge of the jungle. In his youth he had been an anarchist, and then a radical socialist, but by 1927 he had become an ardent German nationalist and anti-Semite. Because there were no Jews living in Blumenau, he ex-

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pressed his antipathy in print without fear of reprisal, and although the numbers who read his newspaper were small, his articles were reprinted in the nationalist press in Germany when he sent them free copies. One of Fouquet’s frequent targets was Gustav Stresemann, the German Foreign Minister, whose wife was Jewish. One evening he proudly showed Wesemann an article he had written condemning Frau Stresemann for giving a lavish party for Allied officers who still controlled parts of Germany. On hearing this, Wesemann informed Fouquet that the reason Blumenau had been snubbed by Hans Luther on his recent visit to Brazil was because of articles in the Urwaldbote that had been critical of him. Traveling north, Wesemann visited an independent enclave in the state of Piauhn where a Catholic Priest was in control. Padre Cicero had recently been elected to the nation’s legislature, but indicated that he had no intention of taking up his seat because he enjoyed wielding power in the jungle colony where he had been living for sixty years. As a young priest, he had tried to collect church rates, only to be beaten up by the local parishioners, so he enlisted a tough but devoted bodyguard of men to accompany him wherever he went. This worked very well, and also proved effective when he preached: people listened in respectful silence. His followers regarded him as part saint, part political boss, and part rainmaker (manda-chuva). If he had a dream or a vision that a particular landowner was evil and should die, the offending individual was mysteriously assassinated without any investigation, criminal prosecution, or threat of excommunication by the church.21 A Japanese community along the banks of the Jukia River near the town of Iguape impressed Wesemann with its well-ordered economic organization.22 His host on this occasion was Mr. Shiratori who described, over cups of tea and slices of cake, how inhabitants had organized themselves into collectives and successfully grew rice, sugar cane, tea, and coffee. The colony had its own newspaper, a commercial hotel, schools, paved roads, and an impressive amount of newly constructed housing. The industriousness and cleanliness of the Japanese was in stark contrast to the sloth and filth of the indigenous Brazilians, a fact Wesemann reported with scarcely hidden contempt. Wherever Wesemann traveled, he found Brazil to be a country in turmoil. Even the military seethed with anger and frustration. Although people paid little attention to renegade soldiers roaming the country, he was intrigued by the fate of some mutinous soldiers under the command of Lieutenant Alberto José Maria de Concepcao de Prestes, who, when faced with imminent capture by the regular army, trekked 6,000 kilometers across treacherous and inhospitable terrain into Bolivian territory, only to

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be placed under arrest. Wesemann compared Prestes with German revolutionaries, but said that Prestes was “more appealing to me” because he was writing his memoirs in the form of newspaper articles.23 Describing a prison near Sao Paolo called the Instituto da Redempcao, Wesemann confessed his own horror about being incarcerated: “I have an aversion to prisons. I always think that they might accidentally keep me there.” 24 He was surprised that although 80% of the inmates were convicted murderers, there was no massive cellblock or high retaining wall. Instead, the buildings were surrounded by a variety of large trees and gardens planted with flowers and vegetables. The halls were light and airy, with windows wide open, and the inmates were dressed in ordinary farmworker’s clothing. The cells held only one person, and were clean. Prisoners were given an opportunity to learn to read and write, and there was a music group as well as sports teams. Wesemann admired the metal and woodworking studios, the kitchen, infirmary, and barbershop, and was told that under Brazilian law prisoners could only be sentenced to a maximum of sixteen years confinement. How different this was from the conditions under which Ernst Toller had been held in a Bavarian prison, he mused. In Sao Paolo he found another successful immigrant entrepreneur, an Italian called Count Matarazzo. Matarazzo was penniless when he first came to Sao Paolo from Italy. In his early years he sold oranges, shined shoes, and hawked lottery tickets, saving almost all the money he made and investing it in small enterprises. As a result, his plantations were larger than the state of Bavaria. On them he cultivated coffee, tea, rice, corn, cotton, and rubber, and Wesemann reported that An entire fleet sails under his flag. Tens of thousands of workers toil in his factories. He makes cement, builds houses, cuts down trees and turns the pulp into paper, on which he prints his newspapers. The public drinks his beer and watches films in his cinemas. He contrives to be both wealthy and popular, and when the president of Brazil visits Sao Paolo, he calls upon Matarazzo first.25

As in the other immigrant communities in Brazil, the Italians in Sao Paolo made no effort to learn Portuguese or to assimilate the native culture. Two hundred thousand of the nearly one million residents subscribed to Italian newspapers, and most of their earnings flowed back to Italy. They had also become admirers of Mussolini. In recent years Fascism has been making an appearance in Brazil. There are local Fascist groups and publications which feature Mussolini. Even though the majority of Italians in Brazil are politically indifferent, they nevertheless give their tacit support to the new and Fascist Italy. In small shops and hair salons a picture of

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Mussolini is displayed. These are the same people who in years past would have supported Turati or Lenin.26

Matarazzo fit this picture. Once he became a successful farmer he sent money to the Fascists back in Italy. In 1927 Wesemann returned to Germany, intent on working in Berlin where the struggle for control of the government was a daily drama. The Republic, barely ten years old, was being undermined on all sides, particularly in the universities and among the middle class. Support for established liberal and conservative parties was giving way to special interest groups, and there was an insistent call for a more authoritarian form of government. Seemingly unaware of this turmoil, Wesemann provided the readers of Die Welt am Montag with portraits of traditional landmarks and institutions in the capital: the zoo, the tourist information bureau, the museums, the stockyards, and the city’s renowned department stores.27 He parodied the Frauenkampfbund (women’s combat league), ridiculing its members as old maids, professional women, and sexually frustrated Berliners,28 and in a spoof on the profession of marriage counseling, he described an imaginary encounter supposed between himself and his fiancée.29 Wesemann suggested that he would hesitate having children because he had a complex about being a parent, but he was ignored by his prospective “bride” who slyly manipulated him throughout the bogus session. Somewhat in the same vein, he wrote about a new dating service, pretending he was a woman interested in its services.30 More seriously, Wesemann took genuine pleasure in attending plays and concerts, and being the theater and cinema critic for Die Welt am Montag. This position enabled him to interview actors and directors, and through questioning, to discover unknown facts about their life and work. Adelbert Steinrück, the director of the Staatstheater in Munich, told him that Ernst Toller had once come to him asking to borrow a false beard from the theater’s wardrobe because he needed a disguise to ward off right-wing zealots who were harassing him.31 The actor and film maker, Paul Wegener, told Wesemann that he felt obliged to defend himself for having played the role of Rasputin in a Strindberg play.32 Werner Krauss, who was playing the part of a pastor in the play Dorothea Angermann, was quoted as saying that an actor “should no t . . . completely immerse himself in his role, and deliberately surrender his own self. . . . No, the actor cannot do that. In the final analysis, one can only play oneself.” 33 Innovation and experimentation were synonymous with the spirit of the Republic. Artists flocked to Berlin, anticipating new opportunities in drama, music, and the arts. Fritz Kortner, the Viennese actor, author, and director, was attracted by the work of Leopold Jessner, the director of the

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Royal Theater in Berlin. Jessner tried to run a company on democratic principles, but with the passage of time, his political passions had been curbed. “Since the state theater is an institution of the state, it inevitably reflects the government in power,” he lamented. 34 This comment led directly into a discussion about Erwin Piscator, the controversial communist director whose name was never far from the center of Wesemann’s theatrical interviews. When Wesemann actually met Piscator, he asked him whether his theater was losing money because he was at odds with the German Communist Party. Piscator replied, “I am a communist and I have no reasons to change my convictions, but the conventional wisdom, that my theater is a branch of the Communist Party, is best refuted by the fact that the communist press is often my severest critic.” 35 Russians curious to experience the new artistic freedom came to Berlin, and Wesemann was able to interview several of them. The director, Alexis Granowsky, told him that the classics—Gorky, Chekov, and Tolstoy—were being ignored in Moscow, but a play by Gogol “was a great success in a new production.” 36 He met with the film producer Vsevolod Pudowkin, and twice interviewed Maxim Gorky who, he wrote, “still has that large melancholy moustache, and he still has not yet learned a word of German, as I have not learned a word of Russian.” 37 Interspersed with articles about the theater and cinema were stories describing Wesemann’s escapades before and after the shows. Together with a bachelor friend, Paul Ernst Klatte, he set out to confirm a report in an English newspaper that Berlin was the most corrupt and vicious city on the continent.38 In the course of this “research,” he met the American chanteuse, Josephine Baker, with her retinue which included an Italian secretary, a French chauffeur, an American maid, and seven dogs!39 At this time, Germans were keenly following the fate of two of their boxing champions, and Wesemann was able to talk with both Otto Wiegert, the middleweight winner, who boasted about wearing the more punishing four-ounce gloves rather than six-ounce ones,40 and Max Schmeling, the famous heavyweight. Schmeling was preparing for his world championship bout with Jack Sharkey, and Wesemann asked him whether the rumors about his running for the Berlin city council were true. “I am not interested in politics. I am above political parties,” he snapped.41 Several health problems beset Wesemann, but he never mentioned them in his Die Welt am Montag articles. He was treated for venereal disease, and spent time in St. Hedwig’s Hospital due to a recurrence of typhoid fever. He also suffered a return bout of malaria and was put in the

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hospital by Dr. Gerhart Bauman. In spite of these relapses, he traveled to Lisbon, Prague, Sarajevo, and Antwerp, reporting on political ironies and unrest, a bull fight, and worries about incipient Naziism.42 In September 1928 the Prussian state government lifted its ban against Hitler speaking in public, making it possible for him to address a crowd at the Sportpalast in Berlin on 16 November.43 Wesemann attended this rally and provided Die Welt am Montag with a fulsome report which was published three days later. Throughout the speech a sizeable SS (Schutzstaffeln; protectors) guard was evident to maintain order in case of any anti-Nazi heckling. The crowd grew restless, however, because the loudspeaker system was not functioning properly. Frustrated, Hitler finally turned off the microphone and shouted his message of racial and national regeneration, scornfully assailing the degenerate tendencies of modern democracies. “The bastardization of great states has begun. The negroidization of culture, of customs—not only of blood—strides forward. The world becomes democratized. The value of the individual declines. The masses apparently are gaining the victory over the idea of the great leader.” 44 Wesemann compared the way Hitler had looked before Munich with his current appearance. “His moustache is a bit wider now. No longer is it the little tuft of his glorious Munich days. That always looked as if it had been glued on. Now it is comfortably English in style, revelatory of modern solidity and barbering. Adolf Hitler speaks high German in that soft southern accent which we Prussians always find so romantic.” 45 Later that evening Wesemann claimed he was among the invited guests at a reception for Hitler held at the apartment of friends. “We were searched for weapons. Even the book, Germany Awake! had to be left in the cloakroom. And then Adolf held court. Very impressive! One of the group was a member of the Reichstag and confided to Hitler with great pride that yesterday, in that assembly, he received three reprimands for insulting the Republic. However, Hitler was not impressed, and spoke of the ‘rotten parliamentarianism; this cancer of the German people.’ ” 46 After a while, food was served, and everyone waited for Hitler to begin his monologue. He criticized Berlin because it had too much noise, not enough respect for individuals, and too much negro music. “And then this terrible promiscuity of its semi-slavic population.” Wesemann was clearly enjoying his own story, and determined to include in it as much detail as possible. “Hitler sees himself already as his torical. It is amazing how calmly he drops famous names . . . but when someone carelessly mentions Ludendorff, Adolf turns icy. . . . In general he is disappointed in the German people for their inability to recognize

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truly great minds. He was even more upset with the Prussian government for preventing him from speaking for such a long time, [and declared] ‘This enforced silence was the hardest part of all.’ ” 47 Someone sat down at the piano to entertain, and Hitler identified the piece he was playing as the Hungarian Rhapsody by “Haydn.” One of the guests immediately corrected him, pointing out that the composer was in fact Liszt. For his impertinence this fellow was shunned for the rest of the evening, and Hitler regained the attention of his listeners. Wesemann’s narrative resumed, “We quickly change the subject and ask Adolf for de tails of his life. ‘Gentlemen, I assure you that I have testimonials from the highest-ranking people and I also had the blessing of my dear mother back on that dark day in Munich [November 1923], and that is what saved me when the cowardly henchmen of democracy shot at me. There is such a thing as destiny.’ ” We savour this important moment by enthusiastically raising our glasses in a toast to “the future of the coming third Reich.” 48 The next topic mentioned was childrens’ education. Hitler thought it should be authoritarian, with a liberal use of the cane. Besides, Germany needed more children, since “400,000 are murdered every year in Germany before they are born.” Wesemann brazenly asked, “Are you married and have you any children, Herr Hitler?” A chill instantly descended on the room, and Hans defended himself saying, “It was only free association on my part, but the others took it badly.” Fortunately, Signor Ypsilanti, an important Fascist and a confidant of Mussolini, averted further confrontation by mentioning that Il Duce was the father of four children, at which point Wesemann took his leave. Unobtrusively I got out of my chair, saluted at the door with my raised arm and energetically said “heil und sieg,” and only realized, when it was too late, I had raised my left instead of my right arm. And as I put on my coat in the hallway, I could hear Adolf ask, on the other side of the closed door, “What an unpleasant person! Who was that anyway?” No one was able to tell him, and I hurried away before they tried to ask me personally.49

As soon as this issue of Die Welt am Montag was read by Nazi party officials, Wesemann was accused of libel, and a suit was brought against the paper and its proprietor, Georg Hering. The Party was represented by Hans Frank, while Wesemann was defended by Dr. Moritz Rigelhaupt.50 The Nazis lost their case, and had to pay court costs. By this time most people knew that Wesemann’s interview of Hitler was a hoax. More surprising was that anyone thought it genuine. Yet Helmut von Gerlac, the editor of Die Welt am Montag, later claimed that he had fired Wesemann for his journalistic impudence. If so, he must have

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soon relented, since Wesemann was a steady contributor to the newspaper for the next four years. In the autumn of 1929 local elections were held in Berlin. Handbills and posters appeared everywhere, proclaiming the virtues of the Communists or the Social Democrats, while pedestrians were startled by the Nazis’ sound truck blasting its propaganda. Wesemann acknowledged the appeal of the National Socialists with their meetings that attracted large, noisy crowds, poised to erupt into violence if provoked in any way. This was Josef Goebbels’ wild game hunt. However, do not be angry with them. I myself am in favor of romanticism, and I love the way the grey Berlin streets are enlivened by the colorful carnival costumes of the demonstrating Hitler Youth. However, the still class-bound traffic police create problems for the Nazis (as they are called in the Berlin vernacular) when they choose noontime at the Potsdamerplatz to practice their small arms fire, using German citizens of the Jewish faith as their targets. No, one must enter the lions’ den itself to study this Nazi breed from the German game preserve in its peculiar habits and customs. So, I entered the Kriegervereinshaus. With the help of a copy of the Völkischer Beobachter and a pair of dark glasses (which, ever since Ludendorff’s day, have legitimized every political movement,) I managed to make my way to one of the front rows, relatively unscathed. . . . To my horror I saw a young man of clearly oriental extraction climb to the podium and start haranguing the crowds. I thought to myself that, at any moment, the audience would jump up and tear this racial inferior to pieces. But no, it turned out that this oriental-looking speaker was none other than Josef Goebbels himself. He was cheered when he proposed to solve Berlin’s overcrowded public transport by putting tramps up against a wall and shooting them.51

The traditional parties of the Right were so obsessed with the threat of Marxism on the one hand, and the disintegration of republican democracy on the other, that they overlooked the far greater danger of fascism rapidly engulfing them. In the Reichstag elections for September 1930, the Nazis dramatically increased their representation from 12 to 107. Less strikingly, but equally significant, the Communists also returned more deputies to the legislature. In the face of these shifting power relationships, Wesemann interviewed Willi Münzenberg, a Communist member of the Reichstag and future head of the Comintern for Western Europe.52 Asked if the Communist cause was undermined by the Nazi electoral success, Münzenberg replied that he thought not, because this was the first time they had made inroads into the Social Democratic Party (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, or SPD), showing that the Communist Party (KPD) was the party of the proletariat. As for the fascist strength in parts of Berlin, he saw this as reflecting the sharpening class

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conflict which was by design a strategy of the Communists. He admitted that there was always the risk of a fascist takeover, but he calculated that of the 6.5 million who voted for the Nazis, 3 million were probably only temporary supporters, reflecting the downturn in the economy, and the subsequent hard times. Other National Socialist issues were national rebirth and the return of German colonies, and these appealed to the true believers regardless of what the Communists did. What he saw the Nazis overlooking was the way in which the working class was emerging as a much stronger and more alert political force, and in the long run, he contended that no government could remain in power and yet be against the working class. Wesemann then asked why the Communists seemed to have relatively little influence within the trade unions. Münzenberg acknowledged that the KPD had neglected this important sector, but fresh efforts were being made, not by establishing competing unions, but by encouraging communist activity and competition within existing ones. He reminded Wesemann that the unions were currently complacent because unemployment was high and they dared not be militant, and pointed out that the Nazis were having even less success penetrating the unions. Wesemann wondered whether, in this time of crises, the Communists would cease their attacks upon the Social Democrats and begin cooperating with them. Münzenberg responded: “Our goal is to unite the workers. A tactical cooperation with the SPD is quite impossible.” He accused the SPD of no longer being a socialist party, but merely one which sought to cling to power, especially in Prussia under Chancellor Brüning. How, Wesemann queried, would the recent Nazi electoral success affect German foreign policy? Would the two fascist leaders, Hitler and Mussolini, come to a mutual understanding? Münzenberg pointed out that, in deference to the Italians, Hitler had omitted any mention of south Tyrol from his demands to restore German lands to the Reich, and he foresaw the possibility that Britain and France would eventually acquiesce to revising the Versailles Treaty, albeit without yielding to the more extreme demands of the National Socialists. With his story of the 1928 reception when he supposedly met Hitler, Wesemann initiated a succession of fictionalized accounts about meeting Nazi leaders. It is not clear whether the editors of Die Welt am Montag, condoned these concoctions, but Wesemann continued submitting humorously scathing profiles, particularly targeting Josef Goebbels. In October 1930 he imagined visiting the bustling Rhine River town of Reydt where Goebbels was born, and asking his godmother what he was really

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like. Surrounded by a room full of photos, she lavished loving praise on him. Oh, dear sir, you would never believe how pious he was as a youngster. He loved to attend church, and I always hoped he would become a priest. Then he would be looked after for the rest of his life and prayed for us all. Now look what he has done. . . . I don’t know what the boy’s problem is with the Jews. He used to play so nicely with the Katz children, whose father, a butcher, used to live right around the corner. . . . But the boy could never keep his mouth shut. He always had to have the last word.53

Goebbels came in for another of Wesemann’s satires in December 1930 when he wrote, “He is the most popular man in Berlin according to the glaziers, for whom his political activities always guarantee much business.” 54 While known as Hitler’s “cat’s paw,” Goebbels was still very much a legend rather than a well-known personality. Wesemann contended that he was not really a politician but a romantic and a lyricist. “Under normal circumstances he would have been an energetic teacher at the girls school in Euskirchen,” whereas, being a public figure, he spent time dashing around Berlin in his Mercedes. As for his novel, Michael, Wesemann asked rhetorically, “Will anybody ever read him?” Early in 1931 articles by Wesemann attacking Goebbels began to appear in the provincial press, whereupon Goebbels finally decided to respond in the columns of his own paper, Der Angriff. A certain Galician, Hans Wesemann, has been writing for the provincial press. Several years ago he came to our attention, when he requested an interview with Adolf Hitler, and when I denied this request, he composed one with his dirty paws. It was one filled with defamation and innuendo. When confronted by the falsity of this interview, Wesemann was again reduced to silence. One might well have thought that his journalistic career had come to an end. However, now this noble scribbler is fouling the provinces with the excrement of his sick brain.55

Goebbels was especially offended by an article titled “Nazi Hochburg Berlin,” in which he complained that whenever he spoke in public, a com mentary by Wesemann appeared in the socialist press the next day. He determined to refute Wesemann’s allegations, one by one. Whereas it was claimed that he lived in an elegant six-room flat, with two pianos and an organ, Goebbels pointed out that he lived in a modest two-room apartment. Rather than whiling away time at the opera, as Wesemann alleged, he protested that he had only attended three performances in the past four and a half years, and didn’t even possess evening clothes. To Wesemann’s jibe that he needed a chauffeur to protect him from irate

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crowds, Goebbels admitted that his chauffeur had been stabbed on five separate occasions by communist thugs. Answering his own question, “What should the NSDAP do about Wesemann?,” Goebbels rejected any legal recourse against him or his pa pers because there were so many inaccuracies that he would have to spend countless days in court. The best tactic, he decided, would be to ridicule Wesemann. What is striking is that Goebbels bothered to respond at all. Clearly Wesemann was beginning to make a name for himself as a political satirist who could no longer be ignored, a reputation that soon came to haunt Wesemann when the Nazis took over control of the government. Meanwhile, in February 1932 Wesemann looked into the future to a time when Adolf Hitler would be the Chief of Police in the town of Hildburghausen. To the interviewer Hitler boasts: “Here . . . is the Third Reich being created. You can readily see just how well I am doing.” Wesemann alleged that he was in the crowd that welcomed Hitler. We march down the only street. Of course I am five paces behind Adolf. There are Swastika flags in all the windows, and above the doorways hang horses’ skulls, in honor of Wotan. The inhabitants are dressed in coarse woollen clothing, and they stand at attention when Adolf’s shadow falls upon them. Virgins blush modestly into their low-cut peasant blouses, which gesture Adolf kindly acknowledges by inclining the angle of his raised arm by 15 degrees. From the open windows of a public building issues forth a dreadful howling. “Who or what is going on there?,” I whisper to him. “That’s where the children are practicing their Maulsalven [sound barrages] for the Third Reich.” “They will work overtime until the walls of Hildburghause tremble before me,” Adolf deigned to reply. Finally we reached the marketplace. All the women curtsy, but he severely reprimands them. “What foreign influences have infiltrated here? I want to see German cabbages and none of those foreign oranges or artichokes in the market.” After thundering these remarks upon their bowed heads, he drew forth from his pocket the dreaded notebook.56

As police chief, Hitler was then depicted as presiding over the local courtroom where he reprimanded a grocer, saying, “You have already confessed to being of Hebrew descent, and are operating a successful business among your host people. You and your shop will therefore be shut down, and its contents will be auctioned off.” Another defendant, a “blameless maiden” accused of race defilement for displaying a photo of “an unmistakably Semitic male” (Wesemann’s not-so-subtle way of refer ring to Goebbels), was threatened with branding with a hot iron. And as a final outrage, Wesemann concluded his article with a transparent reference to Ernst Röhm’s homosexuality. For these charges, Wesemann saw

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himself besieged by SS men shouting, “Nail him to a Swastika. He has been talking when he had no right to do so.” After months of almost daily incidents involving bands of Nazi thugs attacking innocent bystanders, Wesemann reported a true incident he witnessed in the town of Kreiensen. As his train pulled in to the station, he saw a flag with a giant swastika flying from a tall smokestack on a building which used to be a factory. Now it had become the headquarters of an SS training school. At the other end of town there was another factory flying two such flags. Its exterior was crumbling, but a small group of about a dozen men worked there manufacturing rifles and other weapons. Separated by only a flimsy locked wooden door was an SA training school which had been there since December 1931. Each fortnight a different group of 140 SA men drilled, military-style. Indoors they wore brown shirts, but outside they covered these with long grey coats with swordbelts. Some wore helmets. “They only march as far as the Prussian border. They fear the nearby police station at Einbach, which shows less understanding for beating up Republicans and other acts of heroism than does the police minister of Brunswick Klagges,” Wesemann reported. 57 Furthermore, on the night before the presidential elections in March 1932, five Nazis broke into the house of Herr Strogmeyer, smashed all the windows, and beat this 63–year-old and his eldest son with iron bars. When the victims lodged a complaint with the Kreiensen police, they were told that there was no way that everyone could be provided with protection, and if people were worried, they could board up their windows. Wesemann noted that this was supposed to be at a time when the Prussian government had agreed to temporarily crack down on the Nazis, but there were many communities which harbored National Socialist sympathies and had easy access to firearms. On April 13, with both an economic and political crisis at hand, Chancellor Brüning imposed a ban on Nazi Storm Troops. Five days later Wesemann told about the trial of five Nazis who had beaten up and then shot a Communist, Klemke. The courtroom was filled with the supporters of both parties. The defendants were “fresh-faced thugs” under the age of thirty. They were represented by a lawyer with a monocle and an air of superiority. “By contrast, the Communists . . . with their unkempt hair and peasant blouses . . . give the impression of a demonstration for revolutionary human rights against the tyrants dressed in brown shirts.” 58 Brüning’s resignation on 30 May led to Franz von Papen being asked by President Hindenburg to form a ministry. In that same month of June 1932 Wesemann wrote, rather unwisely, another parody of Hitler, portraying him as a failed politician in the year 1942: “We sat down in his

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modest twelve-room house in the Bavarian mountains and for a time we exchanged pleasantries. I noticed immediately that the Führer was no longer sporting his famous moustache. He observed my surprise and said: ‘Germany has lost a lot of hair in the past decade, so I thought I should set a symbolic example.’” 59 Wesemann asked about Josef Goebbels, and Hitler proudly announced that his former propaganda chief had become a public relations manager for the West German sheet metal company. As for Captain Ernst Röhm (known widely as a homosexual), the Führer confided, “You will laugh, but it is true, he is happily married.” To an inquiry about the memoirs he was writing, Hitler blamed troublesome critics and the continuing economic crises for delaying their publication. The historically accurate account of my last political breakfast is being challenged by the proprietors of the Kaiserhof Hotel. These people have no sense of historic necessity. I prefer my own Barnum circus. This year I am again undertaking an extensive lecture tour of the United States. Max Schmeling and Thomas Mann are not nearly so popular at the box office as I am. Only Mussolini draws better, but this year he is doing South America, so our paths will not cross.60

After this, Wesemann stopped writing overtly anti-Nazi articles, although he continued to be published regularly in Die Welt am Montag for another five months. His last contribution appeared on 21 November 1932, and two months later Hitler became Chancellor, effectively putting an end to the paper and to Wesemann’s career as a German journalist.

NOTES 1. Fragments of biographical information about Hans Wesemann and his family can be found in a case file located in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Switzerland; in the files of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, National Archives, Washington, D.C., Suitland Branch, Crystal City Internment Camp Case no. 935/588; and at the beginning of Wesemann’s Ph.D. dissertation for the University of Freiburg. 2. Die Welt am Montag (Berlin), 12 Nov. 1928, p. 6. 3. Vorwärts (Berlin), 23 June 1921. 4. Ibid., 28 Sept. 1921. 5. Ibid., 18 Nov. 1921. 6. Ibid., 25 Aug. 1922. 7. Ibid., 17 May 1923. 8. Ibid., 23 Aug. 1923. 9. Ibid., 26 May 1924. 10. Ibid., 15 July 1924. 11. Ibid., 16 Aug., 2 Sept., and 21 Oct. 1924.

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12. Interrogation of Victor Schiff, 27 May 1935: Staatsarchiv, Basel; Wesemann case, pp. 617–630. 13. Geneva Cantonal Police Report, 5 Feb. 1925: Schweizerische Bundesanwaldschaft, Geneva. 14. Vorwärts, 6 and 13 Oct. 1925. 15. Further details concerning the breakup of their marriage can be found in the interrogation of Dora Fabian, 27 March 1935, Wesemann case, Staatsarchiv, Basel, pp. 254–275. 16. As far as we can tell, no articles of his ever appeared in this newspaper. 17. Wesemann’s conversion is discussed in a letter from Father Bernhard Wienhold to Wesemann, 31 Dec. 1933; Wesemann Case, Staatsarchiv, Basel, p. 276, document #30. 18. German Embassy, Rio de Janeiro, to German Foreign Ministry, Berlin, 17 April 1935: Auswärtiges Amt, Bonn; Inland III AB, file 83/78. 19. The article purportedly appeared in Die Weltbühne, according to an unidentified newspaper clipping, but we were unable to locate it. 20. Die Weltbühne (Berlin), 2 Aug. 1927, pp. 190–191. 21. Die Welt am Montag, 22 Aug. 1927. 22. Ibid., 10 Oct. 1927. This newspaper did not number its pages, but Wesemann’s articles ordinarily appeared on p. 6. 23. Ibid., 21 Nov. 1927. 24. Ibid., 29 April 1929. 25. Ibid., 13 Oct. 1930. 26. Ibid. 27. Ibid., 26 March, 7 May, 3 Sept. 1928; 18 March, 11 Nov. 1929. 28. Ibid., 18 March 1929. 29. Ibid., 25 Aug. 1930. 30. Ibid., 14 Dec. 1931. 31. Ibid., 31 Oct. 1927. 32. Ibid., 14 Nov. 1927. 33. Ibid., 19 Dec. 1927. 34. Ibid., 6 Feb. 1928. 35. Ibid., 25 June 1928. 36. Ibid., 2 April 1928. 37. Ibid., 11 June 1928. 38. Ibid., 28 Oct. 1928. 39. Ibid., 8 Oct. 1928. 40. Ibid., 3 March 1930. 41. Ibid., 24 March 1930. 42. Ibid., 21 Aug. 193l; 3 Aug. 193l; 4 June 1928; 24 Oct. 1932. 43. There is an account of this speech in J. Toland, Adolf Hitler (New York: Ballantine Books 1976), p. 318. 44. Die Welt am Montag, 19 Nov. 1928. 45. Ibid. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid.

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50. Hearing Board of the Alien Enemy Control Section of the Department of State, Crystal City, Texas, 19 Mar. 1946; Report p. 8. National Archives, Special War Problems Division, box 6. 51. Die Welt am Montag, 18 Nov. 1929. 52. Die Weltbühne, 23 Sept. 1930, pp. 474–477. 53. Die Welt am Montag, 20 Oct. 1930. 54. Ibid., 15 Dec. 1930. 55. Der Angriff (Berlin), 10 March 1931, p. 1. 56. Die Welt am Montag, 15 Feb. 1932. 57. Ibid., 4 April 1932. 58. Ibid., 18 April 1932. 59. Ibid., 13 June 1932. 60. Ibid.

2

ENIGMATIC EXILE, MARCH 1933–A UGUST 1934 Once Hitler was Chancellor, the Nazis swiftly consolidated their power. First, they had exploited the Reichstag Fire in late February 1933 to promulgate Emergency Decrees which effectively deprived many Germans of their civil rights. Then, in early March the national elections gave them an increased plurality of seats in the Reichstag. Although they still did not have a majority, Hitler skillfully played on the doubts and fears of the other parties and was able to effect the passage of the Enabling Act which gave the Nazis dictatorial authority for the next four years. Wesemann knew all too well where he stood with the National Socialists. Throughout the 1920s and early 1930s he had closely identified himself with their opponents, the Social Democrats, and continually provoked Goebbels, especially with the supposed interview with Hitler. His chances of continuing as a journalist in Germany were bleak indeed, since the left-wing press was being suppressed, and many editors had already fled the country. Certainly no right-wing paper would be likely to hire him, and so his best hope lay outside of Germany. However, he hesitated in making a clean break with the new National Socialist regime, which, he reasoned, might eventually moderate its intimidation and violence. He therefore went about seeking a foreign assignment abroad while carrying on as usual, providing no hint of his intentions.

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By way of professional cover, he secured press credentials from the Dammert Press Service in Berlin as their representative in London. With these he could more readily gain temporary permission to reside in Britain. Then, in late March, without telling anyone but his friend Werner Hitzemeyer, he left Berlin, arranging his flat as if he were merely away on a brief business trip. Hitzemeyer was of German extraction but held a British passport, allowing him to leave Germany without arousing suspicion, so he collected Wesemann’s suitcases and took them to Paris.1 Wesemann had known Hitzemeyer from the days when they both worked in Berlin in 1928. He was the son of German parents who had lived in Richmond, Surrey, where he was born in 1905. He remained in England until 1910 when his family returned to Germany. After attending school in the city of Wuppertal, he was apprenticed to a pharmacist, but abandoned this to become an actor for several years.2 In 1930 he contracted a lung infection, and began to spend summers in southern England, and by the time Wesemann arrived in April 1933 he was well established in Kent, working as a chauffeur for a Mrs. Baskerville at her spacious residence of Pitchoun Mas, Maidstone Road, Chatham, where Wesemann took a room as a paying guest. Hitzemeyer was involved in several money-making ventures: with his brothers he sold cloth and suits to military bases; and he tutored students in German. Eventually he became Mrs. Baskerville’s lover. Wesemann first went to Switzerland after leaving Berlin, but after a few days left for Paris aboard a second-class carriage on the overnight train from Zurich. To pass the time during the journey he fell into conversation with a 31–year-old salesman from Zurich, Arthur Benz. Upon reaching Paris the two agreed to meet in Paris the following day. At this meeting Wesemann asked Benz if he would be interested in facilitating a scheme to smuggle Marks out of Germany into Switzerland. Benz exhibited some interest, so Wesemann asked him to return the next day to his hotel on the Boulevard St. Michel in order to further explore the topic. When Benz arrived, a Mr. Meyer from London was in the hotel room with Wesemann. It seems quite clear that this was Wesemann’s friend, Werner Hitzemeyer.3 Wesemann indicated that he was not proposing to be directly involved himself, but would furnish upwards of a million Marks to another intermediary in Switzerland who would pass it to Benz. In addition to the currency-smuggling plan, Wesemann told Benz that he was thinking of buying a chalet in Switzerland for which he was prepared to make a down

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payment of 20,000 Marks, so would Benz please keep an eye out for a good bargain. Benz was fully convinced by Wesemann and confirmed his willingness to be involved in the smuggling scheme in a letter to Wesemann dated 9 April 1933. The language was guarded. “I hereby confirm our oral agree ment by which I give you forty per cent of my share of every transaction that takes place through your direct or indirect action.” Whenever Wesemann was in Paris he usually spent some time with his former wife Ilse who worked as a freelance journalist. They continued to be friends, and he relied on her to supply him with information. However, on 13 April Wesemann abruptly left Paris for London, making his way from Dover where he spent a few days, and then journeyed on to Chatham where Werner Hitzemeyer had arranged lodgings for him. Fortunately he was able to satisfy H.M. Customs of his journalistic bona fides, and was therefore granted a temporary visitor’s permit for six months. Toward the end of April Wesemann wrote to Benz telling him to expect one of three people to contact him in Zurich: Herr Goldschmidt or Herr Pohlberg from Berlin, or possibly Ilse.4 None of them materialized, or if they did, Benz was unavailable, either because he was traveling on business, or negotiating the terms of his own divorce. Months passed before Wesemann sent another letter to Benz saying that he could soon expect a visit from Fräulein Aldendorff, who would discuss the possibility of smuggling 160,000 Marks out of Germany. She contacted Benz, but never entered into any arrangement with him, and once back in Germany, vanished. For about a year, from April 1933 until May 1934, Wesemann resided officially in Kent while trying to find work in London and elsewhere. He made his most important journalistic contact in the spring of 1933 when he renewed acquaintance with Charles Robin de Gruchy, the editor of Reynolds’ Illustrated News.5 The two had originally met at a conference of socialist students in Germany in 1922 and had maintained a sporadic correspondence since that time. Wesemann capitalized on his status as a refugee from Hitler’s tyranny to ask de Gruchy for a chance to write articles for his paper. Owned by the Cooperative Movement, the Illustrated News always tried to remain true to its radical mid-nineteenth-century origins, and so Wesemann’s anti-Nazi contributions would fit well with its editorial policy. Sensing this, de Gruchy accepted submissions from Wesemann, but they were unsigned, probably due to the stipulation in his visitor’s visa that he refrain from employment in Britain. Whether or not he intended to, Wesemann became a figure noticed in German refugee circles in England. He was aware that his reputation had been tarnished in the 1920s by his dubious journalistic ploys, so he deter-

28

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mined to set about re-establishing his good name. To this end, he took the opportunity while in Oxford in July 1933 to bring himself to the notice of the former Weimar politician and Reichstag deputy, Rudolf Breitscheid. Impressed with Wesemann’s anti-Nazi sentiments, Breitscheid agreed to contact Wesemann’s former wife, Ilse, while he was in Paris, conveying letters and bringing back the latest gossip.6 In October of 1933 Wesemann’s six-month visitor’s permit expired, forcing him to apply for an extension. He naturally avoided any mention of his work for Reynolds’ Illustrated News, merely citing his continuing work for the Dammert Press Service of Berlin. When he received permission to remain, he was again told not to seek employment from any British firm.7 However, he ignored this advice and applied to the Newspaper Proprietors Association for a press card which would admit him to public gatherings and news conferences, and facilitate his writing articles for de Gruchy as well as the Dammert Service. That first autumn in England Wesemann also renewed acquaintance with the liberal Weimar journalist, Otto Lehmann-Russbüldt, one of the earliest refugees from Nazi Germany. The two had met back in the early 1920s. As a Jew, Lehmann-Russbüldt had been deprived of his German citizenship by the government of the Third Reich and felt particularly vulnerable to the uncertainties of his position in London. Wesemann hinted that he had ways of placing anti-Nazi articles in the British press. This was a complete role reversal: the less well-known Wesemann introducing the distinguished German writer to influential people in and about London.8 Early in 1934 Wesemann introduced himself as Dr. Rudolf Schroeder to Henry Wickham Steed, a former editor of The Times of London.9 Why he resorted to this subterfuge is unclear. However, he again resorted to using a pseudonym when writing to Professor Emil Gumbel in Lyons, France, on 15 March 1934.10 The return address on his letter was Pitchoun Mas, Maidstone Road, Chatham, and the signature on the letter was Werner Meyer. Like Lehmann-Russbüldt, Professor Gumbel, a former mathematician from the University of Heidelberg, had been on the initial list of German refugees deprived of their citizenship by the Nazis in the summer of 1933. During the Weimar Republic, Professor Gumbel distinguished himself as an outspoken critic of German militarism and European Fascism in such books as: Vier Jahre politischer Mord (1922); Deutschlands geheime Rustungen (1925); Lasst Köpfe Rollen: Faschistische Morde, 1924–1931 (1931). As Werner Meyer, Wesemann asked Gumbel whether his revised book on German political murders was yet in print, and had he made any arrangements for an English translation? If not, Meyer/Wesemann

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thought that he could help secure a British publisher since the topic held great interest in England. For this reason he also asked for a list of Gumbel’s other writings on pacifism.11 On 26 March Gumbel replied in a non-committal way, indicating that his book about German political murders had not yet been published, nor had any British publisher been consulted. Meyer/Wesemann forthwith urged him to send the manuscript as soon as it was ready, promising to arrange for its translation in conjunction with C. R. de Gruchy.12 Later he wrote yet again, requesting a detailed outline of the book so that he could show it to various firms in order to whet their appetites.13 To all these blandishments, Gumbel remained aloof. During the summer of 1934 Wesemann renewed contact with Berthold Jacob, a journalist he had known since the early 1920s when both of them worked in Berlin for Die Weltbühne and Die Welt am Montag. Jacob had also been present at his wedding in 1926. Well before the Nazis came to power, Jacob expressed strongly pacifist views and exposed German violations of the Versailles Treaty, resulting in several lawsuits against him by the Weimar Republic. He was fined and sentenced to prison, but later pardoned. Being Jewish, he deemed it wise to leave Germany even before the Nazis came to power, and so in 1932 emigrated to France. Gradually he established himself in a new career as proprietor of the Independent News Service (Unabhängiger Zeitungsdienst) of Strasbourg. Two letters to Jacob dated 8 and 10 May 1934 were sent from Paris by Ilse Wesemann. They contained requests for copies of Jacob’s newsletter for the months of March, April, and May, and encouraged him to seek a wider circulation for his revelations concerning German rearmament. On 7 June Wesemann himself wrote to Jacob from London, beginning what turned out to be an extended exchange of correspondence during the next nine months. He began by saying that he had secured Jacob’s address from “friends in Paris.” Recalling our occasional collaborations for the Weltbühne and the Welt am Montag, I would like to offer you some practical advice on making use of the English press. I have been in England for a year, and have very good contacts in political and journalistic circles. There is a distinct possibility of placing interesting and authentic material about German armaments, especially the SA, etc., in the English press. Photographs and illustrations of any kind would be most welcome.14

Enclosed in the letter was a copy of the program of the National Peace Congress at Birmingham which Wesemann hoped that Jacob could attend. To tempt him into coming, Wesemann mentioned several people who would be there, and to whom he could arrange introductions: Rennie

30

Nazi Refugee Turned Gestapo Spy

Smith, organizer of Friends of Europe; and Gustav Warburg, the Hamburg journalist, and Franz Neumann, the renowned Berlin lawyer, both of whom were active in socialist circles in London. Concurrently Wesemann wrote to the Secretary of the British branch of the League for Human Rights, requesting a translation of a memorandum that Berthold Jacob had written for them dealing with his ideas on how to avoid another war.15 Wesemann also mentioned the likelihood that Jacob might attend the National Peace Congress. In his next letter to Jacob on 14 June Wesemann thanked him for the material he had forwarded concerning the imprisoned German socialist, Carl von Ossietzky, and gave him assurances that his information would find its way into the British press. Along similar lines, he asked Jacob if he knew anything about the women’s concentration camps in Möhringen and Hohnstein.16 Mindful of Jacob’s lack of a valid German passport, and the probability that he could therefore not risk leaving Paris, Wesemann recommended approaching Georg Bernhard, the former German editor, now a refugee in Paris, or Leon Blum, to help secure a French passport. Meanwhile Wesemann promised to make inquiries on his behalf of the British Foreign Office. Confident of success from one of these sources, he urged Jacob to bring fresh material to Birmingham so that he could leak it to the British press. Wesemann also offered to assist in finding a publisher for Jacob’s book, Potentiel de Guerre de l’Allemagne. By mid-June Jacob was becoming suspicious of all the correspondence from the Wesemanns, and had written to Lehmann-Russbüldt in London, asking for his advice. He replied that when von Gerlach had provided Wesemann with his address some months back, Wesemann had threatened to reveal certain incriminating documents if he did not cooperate, and the only way that he had been able to stop him was to threaten to sue him for blackmail.17 In spite of this troubling news, Jacob continued to trust Wesemann because of contacts with Rennie Smith that Wesemann was using to help him travel to England. And, in fact, on 20 June Wesemann was able to inform him that the British Home Office was prepared to admit him into Britain to attend the National Peace Congress, reversing a decision by the British Consulate-General in Strasbourg. However, the French authorities would not guarantee that he would be readmitted to France, so he dared not attend. Undaunted, Wesemann pressed Jacob to figure out some way to visit England, telling him that opinion-makers like the former editor of The Times, Henry Wickham Steed, were eager to meet him. Why not try to secure an invitation to the International Trade Union conference at

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Weymouth scheduled for early September? Perhaps he could be sponsored by the British Union and the Relief Committee for the Victims of Fascism. While pursuing this contact with Jacob, Wesemann’s anxiety increased regarding the delay in the annulment of his marriage in 1926 to Ilse Meyer, occasioned by the fact that he now wanted to marry a wealthy Venezuelan whom he met in Berlin in 1930. An annulment was necessary because his fiancée, Carmen de Hernandez, was a good Catholic and refused to marry a divorcé. Accordingly, Wesemann petitioned the Catholic Bishop of Southwark to help him.18 The annulment occurred two years after the marriage, which raised awkward questions involving the possibility that he was impotent, an unlikely circumstance in view of his reputation as a philanderer. Oddly enough, because his ex-wife was Jewish this counted in his favor, because as a convert, the marriage should never have taken place. Wesemann also alleged that Ilse refused to view marriage as a sacrament, but only a legal convenience, and openly admitted that she didn’t intend to have children. A long delay ensued because Wesemann had to write to Father Bernhard Wienhold, the priest who had baptized him in Rio de Janeiro seven years earlier, asking for a certificate of baptism, although he himself was vague about the date. When he first applied to the Bishop of Southwark in 1933 he had said that it had taken place in the spring of 1927, but when he wrote to Father Wienhold he mentioned December or January 1925–1926. In a second letter to Wienhold he added an extra incentive to reply. “Through this marriage I will become quite wealthy. My first deed will be to remember you and your poor parishioners. My fiancée and I will visit you in Rio, and you will be most welcome to visit us in Venezuela.” 19 This produced an immediate response from Wienhold, stating that he had checked the hotel register where Wesemann had been staying and had ascertained that the baptism had taken place there in December 1926. He then responded to Wesemann’s generous offer. If you are really serious about my assistance, then ask your pious and rich bride to send me a large donation in a sealed envelope without stating its value. Do not send it through a bank or money order, since its value will be diminished by one third. I currently live in great poverty. Please send it as soon as possible so I can extricate myself from an unfortunate situation. Believe me, no one else would have provided you with the papers you required.20

Throughout 1934, Ilse was uncooperative, and a friend in Paris, Maud Van Loon, said of her that she was still very dependent on Wesemann and

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met with him regularly, adding, “She can only be resisting the annulment out of spite and revenge.” 21 Late in the afternoon of 27 April 1934, Wesemann walked to 9 Carleton House Terrace and rang to be admitted to the German Embassy, a handsome Georgian mansion designed by John Nash in the late eighteenth century. After being thoroughly scrutinized, he asked to speak to one of the diplomats on duty, and was led to the office of First Secretary, Gesandtrat Ernst Rüter.22 Rüter was a career diplomat with many years of experience, the last two in his present job as First Secretary. However, in November 1933 he was alleged to be someone who could not be trusted to give unqualified support to Hitler and his new regime.23 Wesemann began by explaining that he was a freelance journalist who had come to Britain in the spring of 1933 and since then had spent much time among the German emigrant community in London. He claimed that this exposure had made him increasingly aware of the hostility that these emigrés were exhibiting toward the Fatherland. By contrast, he avowed that he had now shed his former anti-Nazism, having recognized Hitler’s accomplishments and his efforts to recapture Germany’s greatness, and felt it his duty to alert the German authorities to the machinations of the dissident refugees abroad, especially those who were at work exposing Germany’s efforts to rearm herself. He said that he regarded such revelations tantamount to treason, but asked that his name not be mentioned in any dispatches to Berlin. Rüter therefore agreed to refer to him as “Herr X.Y.” Rüter’s initial impression was of a man who “must be a good actor if he is in fact a spy or traitor. He was very nervous and excitable, but his overall appearance seemed genuine.” 24 Prince Otto von Bismarck, grandson of the Iron Chancellor and Counselor at the Embassy, gave further credence to Wesemann’s disclosures because they included “important in formation about the persons and plans of those pacifists belonging to the London circle; information of which the Embassy has hitherto been unaware.” 25 Initially Wesemann supplied the names of significant personalities in the German emigré community. Primary among the dissidents was Otto Lehmann-Russbüldt whom he characterized as the “intellectual soul” of the London contingent. Although Lehmann-Russbüldt appeared to be an old and befuddled refugee occupying two rooms at the National Hotel in Upper Bedford Place, Wesemann assured Rüter that he was, in fact, in vigorous good health, and regularly traveled throughout the United Kingdom talking to anti-Nazi groups and holding discussions with British political leaders. Most recently these included Lord Hailsham, and the

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leader of the Parliamentary Labour Party, Major Clement Attlee. It was also thought that he was in frequent contact with the Czechoslovak Ambassador to Britain, Thomas Masyrk. To prove his allegation that Lehmann-Russbüldt was carrying on extensive correspondence with German exiles on the Continent, Wesemann showed Rüter two letters which he purloined from Lehmann-Russbüldt’s desk, one from Helmut von Gerlach, Wesemann’s former editor now in Paris, and the other from Professor Emil Gumbel. In Gumbel’s letter, he was promoting the idea of publishing a book on clandestine German rearmament, complete with photographs of documents smuggled out of Germany as well as information furnished by anti-Nazis still resident in the Third Reich. Gumbel asked for help revising his book, Der Verräter Verfallen der Feme, and finding someone to translate it into English. This request, in a letter dated 10 April 1934, may have come as a result of Wesemann’s own inquiries to Gumbel about the possibility of securing an English publisher. However, when Wesemann had approached Gumbel he had used a pseudonym, so there would be no way that he could be implicated in the eyes of Lehmann-Russbüldt. A second leading emigré whom Wesemann repudiated was Gerhart Seger, portrayed to Rüter as the “most dangerous” of the exiles. 26 Seger was born in Leipzig in 1896, went to local schools, and attended the university there. Once he completed his studies, he embarked on a career as a journalist. In 1930 he was elected to the Reichstag as a Social Democrat, and served on the Foreign Affairs committee. Following Hitler’s appointment as Chancellor in January 1933, the newly organized cabinet called for another round of Reichstag elections. Seger was re-elected, but a week later he was arrested and imprisoned. Parliamentary immunity was not worth much in the early months of the National Socialist regime, and on 14 June Seger was transferred to the first Nazi concentration camp. The camp was located 17 miles northwest of Berlin in the town of Oranienburg. The Gestapo had taken over an old brewery, and converted the cellars into barracks for the prisoners. Initially there were about 1,800 inmates, including 150 Jews, but each month the camp’s population rose, and the Jewish contingent increased disproportionately. Virtually everyone was a political prisoner. On 4 December Seger managed to escape and travel as far south as the Czech frontier. Once in Prague he contacted the National Committee office of the German Social Democrats, and was promptly put to work writing anti-Nazi propaganda material for smuggling back into Germany. He also made radio broadcasts to the Fatherland by means of a clandestine transmitter. Most effective was his short book on his concentration camp experiences, Oranienburg: Erster

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Nazi Refugee Turned Gestapo Spy

authentischer Bericht eines aus dem Konzentratienslager Geflüchteten, which was rushed into print by his Swiss publisher within a matter of weeks.27 More than 11,000 copies found their way to Germany, while half a dozen translations into different languages permeated foreign markets. While working in Czechoslovakia, he narrowly escaped being kidnapped by four Nazis from Dessau who had driven to Prague on orders to return him to the Third Reich. This attempt convinced him that he had to keep moving, so in March 1934 he began what eventually turned out to be an extended lecture tour to Poland, Sweden, and Great Britain. In London he was met by the secretary of the Labour Party, James S. Middleton, who introduced him to the leader of the opposition in the House of Commons, Clement Attlee, and a number of other well-known politicians such as Geoffrey Mander, Sir Norman Angell, R. N. Brailsford, Lord Ponsonby, and Arthur Henderson. Soon he began a round of public lectures which were covered in the British press and attracted Hans Wesemann’s attention. Many of these occasions were sponsored by the Labour Party, while others had the imprimatur of the League of Nations Union, the Society of Friends, local trade union associations and various women’s organizations. Early in May Seger spoke to a group of M. P.s in Parliament, and as he often did, mentioned his wife and 19-month-old daughter, describing how contingent plans had been made in case he was arrested: she would institute proceedings for a divorce, so as not to be harassed by the authorities on his account. While he was still in prison she refrained from going ahead with this plan, but following his escape from Oranienburg, she reluctantly complied. However, the judge in Dessau refused to accept her petition, and she was arrested by the Gestapo in late January 1934. She and her daughter were sent to Rosslau prison near Dessau where they were the only females, and so had a cell to themselves. The Nazi government admitted openly that they were being held hostage until Seger returned to Germany to complete his prison sentence. Upon hearing this, Lady Astor promised that she would do all she could to help free his family. As Wesemann’s discussion with the First Secretary went on, it became clear that he harbored a personal antipathy to Seger, accusing him of gaining financially as a result of calling attention to his exiled status and eliciting funds from foreign well-wishers including the Quakers.28 “His mean-spirited character emerges when he markets the fate of his wife, who is still in a German prison,” Wesemann alleged. Wesemann’s relationship to Seger was ambiguous at the very least, since he had once had an affair with Seger’s wife, though it was not clear whether this occurred before or after they were married. In any case,

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Seger bore him no grudge, and had readily admitted him to his house at 3 Regent Square, a popular place for German refugees to congregate. Having gained Seger’s confidence as well as his hospitality, Wesemann was shown a 14–page document which Seger said that he had photographed and smuggled out of Hermann Göring’s office. It had to do with German plans to increase aircraft production, a direct violation of the Treaty of Versailles. Wesemann remarked on the fact that it carried no letterhead or official signature, but Seger assured him that this was typical of highly classified material. On Seger’s desk Wesemann glimpsed copies of two letters, one from the Deutzer Motoren-Werks of Cologne to an industrial firm offering to supply them with ventilators in case of air raids and poison gas; and another from the Flugzeugwerke Rosta confirming plans to produce illegal aircraft. Seger revealed to Wesemann that he hoped soon to undertake a lecture tour of Belgium but feared being arrested and sent back to Germany if he entered the Netherlands. More propitious, he felt, were his negotiations with Samuel Untermeyer for a lecture tour of the United States. Sharing rooms at 3 Regent Square was another refugee, Fritz Gross, who was an agent in London for Willi Münzenberg and the Comintern. Wesemann thought that he was the brother of Münzenberg’s common-law wife, Babette Gross, but he was in fact the ex-husband of Babette, and it is unclear how active he was in anti-Nazi refugee circles.29 Trying to assure Rüter of his close ties with the emigré community, and to impress him with his own experience and valuable contacts, Wesemann reminded him how important passports were to the emigrés, and how much they depended upon friendly foreign governments to protect them. In this regard he mentioned that both Lehmann-Russbüldt and Seger carried Czech passports, as did Breitscheid, whom Wesemann had recently met again. He admitted that his own German passport would expire in December 1934, and was fearful that he would have difficulty renewing it. His fellow refugees, he said, urged him to approach the Czechs also. He described how the exile community in London was smuggling anti-Nazi materials back into Germany, disguising their contents by filling the opening pages with National Socialist quotations, and then filling the rest of the brochure with Marxist statements. They could also send letters to Prague and Berlin via the Czech diplomatic pouch; Seger claimed to have sent thousands of brochures to Berlin in this way. Wesemann alerted Rüter to a forthcoming pamphlet that Rennie Smith and his anti-Fascist organization, Friends of Europe, were planning to publish. Written by Sir Austen Chamberlain, it exposed the plight of the Jews in Germany.30

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Finally, on this first visit to the Embassy Wesemann complained that his fellow emigrés in London were pressuring him to undertake assignments for them, since he was one of the few Germans who still had a valid German passport. They particularly wanted him to go to the Saarland and serve as a liaison between the London group and Max Braun, head of the Socialist Freedom movement there. “Freedom” in this context meant re maining independent of incorporation by the Third Reich. Anti-Nazis abroad feared that the plebiscite scheduled for January 1935 would result in the reunification of the Saar region with Germany unless the League of Nations extended its protectorate over the area. The prospect of leaving Britain for an uncertain existence in the Saar did not in the least appeal to Wesemann, and he therefore resisted the idea, even when, he alleged to Rüter, there were threats by emigré leaders to denounce his relatives in Germany if he did not comply. Rüter later wondered whether these threats may have persuaded Wesemann to begin supplying the Embassy with damaging disclosures about the German refugees. Toward the end of this first interview, Rüter commented that Wesemann must find it difficult to live abroad with so few opportunities for earning money, hinting that future revelations might be rewarded financially. Wesemann demurred, and assured Rüter that he was making ends meet with funds provided by several specialized German newspapers. However, he said he would think about the possibility of receiving some remuneration from the Embassy, and in the meanwhile he would gather more information and return soon to Carlton House Terrace. On 1 May 1934 he returned for his second meeting with Rüter. The first person discussed was Dr. Franz L. Neumann, the former Marxist Comptroller of the Social Democratic Party in Germany, who now lived at Essex House, Essex Street, E7, and was currently a correspondent for Neue Vorwärts, published by German emigrés in Prague.31 According to Wesemann, Neumann was also the business manager of the publishing house, Graphia-Verlag, of Karlsbad, Czechoslovakia. He was serving as a kind of liaison between the Communist International and the British trade unions, coordinating both smuggling and currency exchanges between England and Germany via Prague. Well trusted in London, he advised various relief organizations about applications for aid by German refugees. Wesemann then turned to discussing David Yaskiel who spelled his name with a “J”—Jaskiel—when he lived in Berlin on Schöhausenstrasse. In London, he was the founder of the British-International News Agency, 25 Southampton Street, Fitzroy Square, W1, which printed and distrib-

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uted anti-Nazi publications. He maintained links with the Paris firm of Les Editions du Mercure de l’Europe and with the Amsterdam publisher, Querido-Verlag, and told Wesemann that the British Post Office was opening his mail and removing items from it.32 Because of this he was hoping to elicit the support of Wickham Steed, who was on record denouncing this reprehensible practice by the postal authorities, and who thought it might be exposed in an article in the Morning Post or The Times. There was also a good chance that he could introduce the subject of the right of privacy for refugees at question time in Parliament. Lehmann-Russbüldt’s name came up again because his book on German rearmament was purportedly being considered for publication by the London firm of Unwin, even though the publisher was hesitant about including references to plans by the German War Ministry (Reichswehr). This reluctance extended also to mentioning the development of gas warfare weapons by the Hamburg firm of Stolzenberg. Additionally, Wesemann produced evidence that Lehmann-Russbüldt was in regular communication with the press officer of the French Foreign Ministry in Paris, M. Comert, and informed Rüter that another emigré project was to publish an English-language translation of a book which Willi Münzenberg and his Paris publisher, Editions du Carrefour, had issued under the title Nazi-Führer Sehen Dich an. A topic of primary concern among all the refugees who had fled Germany was the infiltration into legitimate anti-Nazi exile communities in Prague by Nazi agents posing as hapless emigrés. With this in mind, there were communications questioning whether, in the interests of security, the headquarters of the outlawed Social Democrat party should not be moved from Prague to London.33 Because of the shared frontier between Germany and Czechoslovakia there were already several instances of illegitimate impersonations of genuine refugees which Wesemann corroborated with newspaper articles, brochures, and letters describing particular instances of deceit. Included among them was an incriminating statement by a German air official in the emigré newspaper in Saarbrücken, Westland. On 4 May Wesemann went to the Embassy to collect compensation for “services rendered.” Rüter made it clear that the £10 he was giving him in no way represented any kind of salary, but was only to cover his expenses. Rüter also suggested that Wesemann never use his real name when contacting the Embassy, but continue employing the name of Dr. Schräder. Accordingly, Wesemann used a slight variant which he had used with Wickham Steed, namely Schroeder, throughout the coming months.34

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Meanwhile, Prince Bismarck, Counselor at the German Embassy, felt uncomfortable with this ad hoc arrangement with Wesemann. He expressed his misgivings to his superiors at the German Foreign Ministry in Berlin while at the same time forwarding Rüter’s first two reports.35 He indicated that he thought it might be far more appropriate for Wesemann to be divulging information to the Gestapo, even though the Gestapo was usually concerned with domestic security and counter-espionage. In a way, he argued, German exiles represented a threat to state security with their anti-Nazi propaganda and activities. His caution about involving the Embassy with Wesemann’s reports stemmed in part from knowing that the British Government would take a very dim view of the matter, doubtless construing it as practicing domestic espionage on British soil, directed against vulnerable refugees. Furthermore, Gestapo agents were not supposed to operate in Britain. The German Foreign Ministry lost little time following Bismarck’s suggestion. On 8 May State Secretary Bülow-Schwanten wrote to the Gestapo, suggesting that Herr X.Y.’s information was of high quality, and asking if they wished to engage him as an informant.36 Meanwhile, the Embassy would be pleased to continue the relationship and circulate the information to appropriate governmental departments. On the same day Wesemann again reported to Rüter.37 This time he talked almost exclusively about Gerhart Seger who was securing much publicity over the plight of his wife and daughter still being held hostage in a prison in Germany. Lady Astor and Megan Lloyd George, daughter of the former Prime Minister, had formed committees to exert pressure not only for their release, but other female captives as well, declaring that concentration camps for women were more savage than those for men. Wesemann mentioned that Seger was planning a lecture tour of France in the near future, and had suggested that he accompany him. Wesemann demurred, but agreed to place an article which Seger had written in one of the London newspapers. Its title was: “The Rearmament of Germany: Facts and Figures.” Wesemann provided Rüter with a copy of this, but not the 14–page document Seger purloined from Göring’s office, because Seger had since turned it over to Lord Hailsham. During Wesemann’s next visit to the Embassy on 14 May he was introduced to Marschall von Bieberstein, a Second Secretary who made a specialty of the Saar question.38 Rüter recommended that Wesemann gather information about emigré activities in the Saar and report them to Marschall von Bieberstein, since he would soon be returning to Germany for reassignment.39

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At this session with Rüter, Wesemann revealed that Seger was continuing to focus on the condition of women in Nazi concentration camps. Not only did he have a plan for an investigation into Frau Seger’s plight, but he had been put in touch with George Bell, Bishop of Chichester, who promised to lodge a protest with Reich Bishop Müller in Berlin.40 Wesemann rather despicably implied that the Segers were Jewish, even though they themselves maintained they were Protestants. As to how Frau Seger was able to communicate with her husband in Britain, he cited as possibilities a Quaker named McMaster who resided in Berlin, and the British chaplain in Berlin. Another bit of information divulged by Wesemann concerned a lecture given by Dr. Otto Piper, a former Professor at the Universities of Göttingen and Münster, who gave a careful and scholarly account of religious life and church activity in Germany since the Great War, leaving no doubt that he deplored what was happening in the New Germany. Wesemann drew Rüter’s attention to a photograph of David Yaskiel standing next to the Prince of Wales and the Austrian Ambassador at a reception in the Austrian Embassy. This was supposed to verify Yaskiel’s role as the representative in Britain of the most anti-Nazi publishing firms in France and the Netherlands. This information took on added significance later in the spring of 1934 when the Catholic dictator of Austria, Engelbert Dollfuss, clamped down very hard on National Socialists who eventually assassinated him. On 18 May Wesemann put in another appearance at the Embassy, most probably meeting with Marschall von Bieberstein, since Rüter was no longer in London.41 He reported that Seger had flown to Paris where he would stay for about two weeks at the Palace Hotel, campaigning on behalf of his wife and the other women and children in German concentration camps. Concurrently, Lady Astor contacted the Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Lang, and insisted that he look into Frau Seger’s plight. He responded immediately by telephoning Hermann Göring and lodging a complaint. At this session Wesemann turned over a copy of a letter from the Secretary of the London-based German Refugee Hospitality Committee to Lehmann-Russbüldt, indicating that Max Braun, one of the leaders of the separatist movement in the Saarland, might be coming to Britain to deliver a lecture. He also told von Bieberstein that Neville Laski, the leader of the Board of Deputies of British Jews, now agreed with Lord Rothschild that Jews in England should boycott German goods and services. Furthermore, another anti-Nazi book on German rearmament looked likely. Berthold Jacob, the German emigré journalist now based in Strasbourg,

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had recently written a series of articles in the Brussels newspaper, Soir, which were subsequently reprinted in Paris and elsewhere. The person furnishing these to the Daily Herald of London was their Paris correspondent, the former sub-editor of Vorwärts, Victor Schiff. Wesemann collected his second reimbursement of expenses, another £10, on 25 May 1934.42 This compensation hardly satisfied his financial needs, however, so he approached the National Council of Labour and was able to convince them to authorize a poor relief sum of £1 be given to him each week.43 During the spring of 1934 the British public was becoming aware of Frau Seger’s case as a result of increased coverage in the press. A delegation of women from the House of Commons called upon the German Ambassador, Leopold von Hoesch, demanding action, declaring that if nothing was done within a fortnight, they would raise the issue during question time in the House of Commons. At the same time, Lord and Lady Listowel went to Berlin to make direct inquiries of German officials. They were told that Frau Seger had already been released and was back in Dessau. However, further investigation revealed that the authorities were contemplating her release, but had not yet let her go. Finally, on Saturday, 19 May, she and her daughter left Oranienburg.44 The next step was to get Frau Seger out of Germany. Another Member of Parliament, the Conservative, Mavis C. Tate, quietly undertook this challenge. Wife of Major Henry Burton Tate, the family associated with the art gallery of the same name, she was also well connected in government circles. Her cousin was Viscount Hailsham, the Secretary of State for War. It is not clear whether she knew that Frau Seger had been released when she left for Berlin, since this news was not seen in the British press until 23 May. As soon as she arrived, she asked to visit a concentration camp, giving no hint of her ultimate purpose. She was allowed to go to Oranienburg, which was prepared for her visit, and during the day she learned that Frau Seger was not there. Once she knew for certain that Frau Seger was back at home, she put pressure on Ernst Hanfstaengl, the Nazi Foreign Press Chief, to allow her to travel the 85 miles southwest of Berlin to Dessau. Hiring a car and driver, she arrived and set about trying to persuade Frau Seger to accompany her back to Berlin and ask the Gestapo for permission to leave Germany. This task was made more difficult because Frau Seger had heard nothing from her husband since he had escaped from Oranienburg, and the German authorities had tried to convince her that he wanted nothing to do with her. Mrs. Tate explained that he had refrained from communicating with her so as not to further compromise her precarious legal situation.45 Under her urgent persuasion,

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Frau Seger acquiesced, and the two reached Berlin on 24 May. The requisite papers and exit visas were hurriedly secured, and on Saturday morning, 26 May, a Lufthansa plane took off from Templehof aerodrome with the two women aboard, all expenses paid by the German government. When their plane touched down at Croyden airfield near London, Gerhart Seger, summoned hastily from Paris, was there to greet them. Wesemann himself tried to exploit the public’s interest in the subject of women as concentration camp inmates. He somehow secured from an emigré copies of letters which described conditions in one of the camps, and showed them to Wickham Steed, hinting that he might do an article or a book on the topic if enough background material could be found.46 Pursuing this idea, he sought to get in touch with Martha Seifert, a woman who had spent six months in Hohnstein in 1933, but was now supposed to be living in Prague. Wesemann decided to write to her through an intermediary, Wilhelm Sander, who would forward his letters. For some reason, he wrote in the name of Robin de Gruchy of Reynolds’ Illustrated News, and used de Gruchy’s home address of Heathfield Lodge, Wandsworth Common, London, SW18. Explaining his reason for writing, he wrote: “Herr Gerhart Seger, who is our good friend and worked a lot here for the cause of the victims of Hitler, suggested that Frau Seifert should put down her experiences in a book.” 47 He went on to urge her to come to Britain and speak of her incarceration at conferences and trade union meetings which he could arrange. On 26 June Seifert replied, thanking him for his interest, but saying that at present she could not come to England. The expense was too much, given her meager earnings from occasional typing assignments and the odd jobs undertaken by her refugee husband who had been Secretary of the Social Democratic Party in Germany and was a former typesetter. Most daunting, however, was that she and her husband had left Germany without taking their 13–year-old son with them. Until he could join them, she could not risk jeopardizing his position and that of her relatives by publicizing, either by lectures or writing, anything about her own imprisonment. However, she would look for information about the camp at Möhringen which might be of use to him and those in Britain concerned about the plight of camp inmates.48 Wesemann, still using the name de Gruchy, replied on 3 July, saying that he thought it quite likely that a British family could be found to look after her son, once he was extricated from Germany. In the meantime, if she had written about her camp experiences, why not send the manuscript to London so that it could be translated and made ready to publish.49 This exchange of correspondence stopped abruptly, in part be-

42

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cause Seifert was warned by a woman refugee in London not to have any dealings with de Gruchy (Wesemann) because it had been her experience that he failed to return her letters about concentration camp victims in spite of repeated requests. On 2 June the Gestapo wrote to the German Foreign Ministry expressing an interest in meeting with “Herr X.Y.” 50 In their letter, sent from Gestapo headquarters at 8 Prince Albrechtstrasse, they proposed that the Embassy in London choose a neutral location where they could talk to him. The Foreign Ministry was slow in notifying the London Embassy of this communication, but they eventually forwarded it on 14 June.51 On 15 June Wesemann met again with Marschall von Bieberstein and received another £10.52 He may have been told that day of the Gestapo’s interest in meeting him. Faced with this prospect, Wesemann needed to seriously assess his intentions. Why had he gone to the German Embassy in the first place? Was it really his duty as a German patriot to demand action against other anti-Nazi emigrés? Could he ever risk returning to Germany in view of his anti-Nazi past? Was he so chronically short of funds that he was prepared to do almost anything for money, including re-marrying? Would his annulment come through by the end of the year so that he and Carmen could settle in Venezuela? This last question revived a serious predicament he had long feared. His German passport expired in December 1934. Early in his conversations with Rüter he had introduced this dilemma, but it was pointed out that passports could no longer be renewed in German embassies and consulates abroad; they had to be issued in Berlin. As the months went by, Wesemann doubtless hoped that in exchange for supplying information, he would be provided with a new passport. In late June Wesemann attended the National Peace Congress in Birmingham, using the occasion to mix with British and foreign pacifists, renew his ties with Germans he had known in pre-Nazi days, and collect useful gossip to pass on to the German Embassy.53 Wesemann’s next payment of £10 for expenses was made on 26 July, the same day that Marschall von Bieberstein confirmed arrangements with the Foreign Ministry for Wesemann’s travel and lodging in Berlin. Dr. Walter Richter of Amt III-C of the Geheime Staatspolizei provided an assurance of safe conduct to Berlin.54 He was scheduled to leave in about a fortnight, but didn’t have enough money for the trip, which was estimated to cost 325 marks. Marschall von Bieberstein sought authorization to provide such a sum, and was able, on 3 August to deliver both the money and a letter of safe conduct to Wesemann.55

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On the eve of his departure, the Foreign Ministry circulated the latest information Wesemann had passed to Marschall von Bieberstein on 28 July to the Ministry of the Interior, the Reich Chancery, the Economics Ministry, the Prussian Ministry of the Interior, the Gestapo, and the Propaganda Ministry.56 Before boarding the boat train at Liverpool Street station on 4 August, Wesemann was nervous enough that he arranged for his friend, Werner Hitzemeyer, to contact Marschall von Bieberstein if he had not heard from him after a lapse of one week. Arriving at Harwich, he took the ferry to the Hook of Holland, and the train from there to Berlin, where he alighted at Friedrichstrasse station and made his way to the Excelsior Hotel. Berlin was in a state of turmoil, reeling from events that had taken place during the previous eighteen months. On 30 June 1934 Hitler and the SS had carried out a bloody purge of alleged Sturm Abteilung (storm troopers, or SA) traitors, among whom had been the head of the SA, Ernst Röhm, and the former Chancellor, General Kurt von Schleicher. On 2 August the aged President of the Republic, General Paul von Hindenburg, died, and Hitler made it clear in eulogizing him that he would assume the duties and powers of the President as well as retain those of Chancellor. The German army was asked to take a personal oath of loyalty to Hitler as well, fully consolidating the Nazi takeover of government. Wesemann was instructed to be in his hotel room at 7:00 P.M. on 6 August to await a visit by someone from the Gestapo. If for some reason this meeting did not occur, he was told to make himself similarly available from 10:00 A.M. the next day. The evening of the 6th passed without a caller, as did the following day. Somewhat at his wit’s end, he presented himself at the German Foreign Ministry on Wilhelmstrasse the morning of 8 August. Scarcely a street away was the dreaded number 8, Prince Albrecht Strasse. To his dismay, he was told that Rüter was not there, so he had to settle for a conference with Alexander Fuehr, a Foreign Ministry official unknown to him. How was he going to raise such a delicate question with a stranger? Fuehr was a veteran diplomat with postings in Japan, New York, Mexico, and Berlin to his credit, and proved to be reassuring. He seemed to know about Wesemann’s visit to Berlin, and couldn’t understand why Wesemann was in such a panic, since the appointment with the Gestapo was not until the evening of August 8. However, to make sure, Fuehr telephoned to confirm that all was in order for a meeting that evening.57 Wesemann’s fears were further allayed when it somehow proved possible to have a brief chat with Rüter.

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Back in his hotel room, Wesemann eagerly waited for a knock on his door. When it finally came, a man and a woman stood there: Dr. Walter Richter and his secretary, Dora Güttler.58 Richter was slender, of average height, and wore dark-rimmed glasses, not at all the stereotype of a Prussian police official. If anything, Wesemann thought he “had a slightly Se mitic appearance.” Fräulein Güttler was about 20 years old, an attractive blonde who also wore glasses. Although he did not know it at the time, Richter would figure significantly in Wesemann’s future.59 Born on 12 September 1898 in Metz, a city alternately claimed by France and Germany because of its location on the Moselle between the Saar coal field and the Lorraine iron ore deposits, his parents were Elisabeth Eckardt Richter and Heinrich Richter, a salesman. Walter remained in school until he was nearly eighteen, and then enlisted as a Pioneer in an engineering regiment of the Wehrmacht on 24 November 1916. He did not see action at the front until August 1917 when he fought as a non-commissioned officer in a “gas-throwing” battalion. At the war’s end he emerged unscathed with an Iron Cross, 2d class. After the war he prepared for and successfully passed the examinations for the Abitur, and then went on to study political economy at the University of Berlin. He transferred to the university at Glessen, completing his doctorate in political science in the summer of 1922. In 1924 he was married to Ursula Fritzsche, and a daughter was born two years later. During this time he worked in industry, and tried unsuccessfully to enter the Berlin police force. Disappointed, he took a job which did not particularly appeal to him in the Reich Debt Administration until July 1928 when he was designated a police recruit and spent the next three years in training. His promotion to Kriminalkommissar at Arnsberg came in October 1931, and two years later he was transferred to Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. He briefly served in the SA from August 1933 to March 1934, but didn’t regard himself politically involved in the National Socialist movement. Only in 1939 did he join the SS, and not until 1942 did he seek admission to the Nazi Party. Thus, when Wesemann met him in the summer of 1934 he was a career Gestapo officer and head of Abteilung III-C, yet his neighbors thought he was a businessman who shared an apartment with his parents at 17 Kaiserstrasse, Berlin-Spandau. At their first meeting Wesemann was relieved to find that Richter did not try to pressure him into anything. In fact, Richter explained that his expertise centered on the activities and publications of refugees abroad in major conclaves such as Prague, Zurich, Paris, and London. He stressed that the Gestapo was not concerned with their gossip, but rather with leaks of military secrets, fomenting industrial unrest within Germany,

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and industrial espionage and sabotage. Dismissively he commented, “We are already keeping track of most of these people. Even the helpless bellowing of the Neue Vorwärts does not interest us. It is just as boring and inconsequential as the original Vorwärts.” 60 Wesemann had to admit that he had not appreciated sufficiently the havoc which émigrés created when it came to disarmament talks among the major states of Europe. By disclosing Germany’s military situation, refugees were indeed undercutting Germany’s ability to strike hard bargains. Chief among these offending exiles were Willi Münzenberg and Berthold Jacob, both of whom Wesemann acknowledged knowing personally. Richter urged Wesemann to help stifle the flow of information abroad that was so adverse to German interests, and impressed upon him that he would be asked to undertake very important assignments, not just indulge in petty snooping. The Gestapo was prepared to offer only modest remuneration, in accordance with a Prussian tradition of frugality among its state officials. Besides, the Reich sustained a chronic shortage of foreign funds with which to pay agents abroad. Richter warned him that he would be operating on his own in Britain or on the Continent, and that if he were ever caught in a compromising situation, he would be repudiated by the German government and left to fend for himself. Before the evening was over, Wesemann agreed to work for the Gestapo. He was told to correspond with Richter in cipher, and to keep his messages businesslike, as though he were discussing some kind of commercial transaction. Any letters he received from Richter should be torn up and flushed down the toilet. He would be given the appropriate addresses and telephone numbers when contacting Richter, who would generally not leave German soil for fear of being detained by a foreign intelligence agency. Wesemann should therefore be prepared to return to Germany whenever it was necessary to have a personal conference. He was also admonished not to use fictitious names or carry forged papers, but continue his normal activities under his own name at his actual address. Richter indicated that he had no objection to Wesemann continuing to furnish the German Embassy with information, especially on the Saar question, but he made it clear that he was principally to be available at all times to carry out specific assignments for the Gestapo. The following day Wesemann informed Fuehr that all had gone well the previous night, and that the Foreign Ministry need not concern itself further. He also let Werner Hitzemeyer know that he was safe, and thus no alarm should be raised with the Embassy in London. During the next week in Berlin Wesemann presumably saw his fiancée, Carmen, as planned. Then, on 15 August he left for the Nether-

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lands, passing through Cheveningen en route to The Hague where he arrived on the 17th and went straight to the German Embassy to secure an appointment with Karl Otto Faber, the press attaché. Forty years old, Faber had joined the Propaganda Ministry in August 1933, and had been sent to the Hague later that year. Wesemann was nervous, and appeared disheveled, but explained that he represented the Dammert News Service in London, was active and well-known among German refugee circles, and had become disenchanted with their hostility to the Third Reich. He indicated that he was already providing information to the German Embassy in London, and would be working in future with Richter of the Gestapo. He then proposed to furnish the Embassy in The Hague with facts concerning emigré plans to start a newspaper in the Netherlands.61 Faber was intrigued by Wesemann’s offer, but said he had to confer with his superiors before agreeing to anything. He sought the advice of Gerhard Feine who had experience in the London Consulate from 1926–1931. They decided to check Wesemann’s story with the German Embassy in London. Marschall von Bieberstein vouched for Wesemann, and so he was paid 50 guilders as a retainer. A few days later Wesemann sent his first report to Faber, but Faber was still uncomfortable and sent an inquiry about Wesemann directly to the Gestapo. It took several months for the reply to come back, and it did little to allay Faber’s fears: Wesemann was not on their books. It must be said that Wesemann never claimed an official connection with the Gestapo, but rather acted as a freelance agent for them. On 28 August he sailed back to Britain via Harwich, and made his way home to his relatively new lodgings at 6 Milton Park in Highgate. Since May, he had forsaken the rural delights of Pitchoun Mas, Chatham, for the convenience of North London, a move prompted partly by his increased activity on behalf of the German Embassy located there, and partly by the fact that two other Hitzemeyer brothers, Charles and Walter, had also moved to 6 Milton Park.62 The two brothers rented an unfurnished flat on the second floor at that address, and Wesemann sublet a room from them for ten shillings a week. Like their brother Werner, Charles and Walter worked for the family clothing firm which supplied fabrics they acquired from the Levy & Co. textile mills to soldiers at military bases. Taking stock of himself at this juncture, Wesemann no doubt felt confident, if not elated. He had successfully and safely returned to Germany and been allowed to leave without incident. He had arranged to do work for embassies in London and The Hague, as well as for the Gestapo,

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which allowed him to travel freely around Britain and the Continent. Although his output was minimal and tapering off with de Gruchy’s Reynolds’ Illustrated News, he anticipated a new connection with the Sunday Referee. Perhaps most important, he no longer felt himself an outcast in disgrace among his fellow journalists, and could resume playing the role of friend and confidant to less fortunate emigrés.

NOTES 1. Report of A. R. Ganz, 24 April 1935: Wesemann case, Staatsarchiv, Basel, pp. 496–499. 2. Ibid., pp. 496–499. 3. Report of the Zurich police, 5 April 1935, ibid., pp. 371–373. 4. Benz’s memory may have been faulty, or he may have misheard the first initial, because Kohlberg was in Berlin and did travel to Switzerland. 5. Ganz report of 27 March 1935: ibid., pp. 267–268. 6. Report of Marcel Guillaume, 26 March 1935: ibid., pp. 617–630. 7. Wesemann to the Home Office, 7 Oct. 1933, and Home Office to Wesemann, 20 Oct. 1933: ibid., items 34 and 35 of Guillaume’s report. 8. Testimony of A. R. Ganz, 6 May 1936: ibid., p. 863. 9. Ganz report of 26 March 1935: ibid. pp. 254–275. 10. Ibid., p. 266. 11. Meyer/Wesemann to Gumbel, 15 March 1934: ibid., p. 276, document 16. 12. Meyer/Wesemann to Gumbel, 3 April 1934: ibid., p. 276, document 17. In this as in other instances, Wesemann used the names of others without their permission. 13. Meyer/Wesemann to Gumbel, 30 April 1934: ibid., p. 276, document 18. 14. Wesemann to Jacob, 7 June 1934: ibid., item 6. 15. Wesemann to the Secretary of the League for Human Rights in Bradford, 12 June 1934: ibid., item 5. 16. Wesemann to Jacob, 14 June 1934: ibid., item 7. 17. Lehmann-Russbüldt to Jacob, 16 June 1934: ibid., item 9. 18. Bishop’s Consistory, Berlin, to Wesemann, 3 March 1934; ibid., p. 276, document 29. Wesemann’s letter to the Bishop of Southwark, dated 24 May 1933, has not survived. 19. Wesemann to Wienhold, 20 Dec. 1933: ibid., p. 276, document 27. 20. Wienhold to Wesemann, 31 Dec. 1933: ibid., p. 276, document 30. 21. Statement of Maud Van Loon, 17 Jan. 1935: ibid., p. 276, document 28. 22. Rüter’s memorandum of his conversation with Wesemann, dated 28 April 1934, was enclosed in Bismarck’s dispatch to the German Foreign Ministry of 3 May 1934. See German Foreign Ministry archives, Bonn: Inland II, vol. 3, file 83/75. Wesemann’s meetings with Rüter are also described in J.N. Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, 1935–1936 (Berlin: Peter Lang, 1972), pp. 115–116. 23. See Rüter’s NSDAP membership card in the Berlin Document Center. He was not allowed to join the Nazi Party until 1937. 24. Rüter memorandum of 28 April 1934, file 83/75. 25. Ibid.

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26. For background material concerning Gerhart Seger, see: The Reminiscences of Gerhart Henry Seger (microfiche edition, New York, 1972); Reisetagebuch: Eines Deutschen Emigranten (Zurich, 1936); A Nation Terrorized (Chicago, 1935); and Daily Herald (London), 19 March 1934. 27. Gerhart Heinrich Seger, Oranienburg: Erster authentischer Bericht eines aus dem Konzentratienslager Geflüchteten (Karlsbad, 1934). 28. Rüter memorandum of 28 April 1934, file 83/75. 29. Gross’s identity and his relationship to Babette Gross was clarified during a conversation with C. M. Brinson and M. Malet. 30. The Friends of Europe pamphlet by Joseph Austen Chamberlain was number 7 in its series and titled Speeches on Germany (1933). 31. Rüter report of 2 May 1934 was enclosed in Bismarck’s dispatch of 3 May 1934, file 83/75. The Essex Street address may have been where Neumann had use of an office. His residence at the time was 37 Mecklenburgh Square. 32. The Post Office later confirmed that some of Yaskiel’s incoming mail from abroad had been stolen, and blamed Nazi agents. 33. It had already been relocated to Prague in 1933. 34. Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, frames M007401–M007405. 35. Rüter File 83/75. 36. Bülow-Schwanten to the Gestapo, 8 May 1934, file 83/75. 37. Bismarck to German Foreign Ministry, 10 May 1934, enclosing Rüter’s report of 8 May, file 83/75. 38. Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120. 39. Rüter’s report of 15 May enclosed in Bismarck’s dispatch to the German Foreign Ministry of 17 May 1934, file 83/75. 40. Seger was introduced to George Bell by James Fox of the World Alliance for International Friendship through the Churches. Bell was known as a liberal cleric who befriended victims of Nazi anti-church policy, including Dietrich Bonhöffer. 41. Bismarck to German Foreign Ministry, 28 May 1934. 42. Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935. 43. First Swiss report in connection with German-Swiss arbitration procedures, 27 July 1935: Schweizerisches Bundesarchiv, Bern; supplementary document no. 16. 44. In addition to The Reminiscences of Gerhart Henry Seger, one may consult the following for details of Frau Seger’s release from prison: The Times (London), 16 May 1934, p. 15; 24 May, p. 11; 25 May, p. 13; and 28 May, p. 11. 45. Hans Wesemann had given a different explanation to Rüter: that Seger had found another woman in Britain and was not eager to be reunited with his wife. 46. Ganz report of 25 March 1935, Wesemann case, Basel, pp. 254–275. 47. de Gruchy/Wesemann to Sander, 18 June 1934, Wesemann case, Basel, pp. 392–393. 48. Seifert to de Gruchy/Wesemann, 26 June 1934, Wesemann case, Basel, pp. 387–389. 49. de Gruchy/Wesemann to Seifert, 3 July 1934, pp. 390–391.

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50. Gestapo to German Foreign Ministry, 2 June 1934, file 83/75. 51. Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, p. 117. 52. Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935. 53. Ibid. 54. Gestapo to Foreign Ministry, 13 July 1934, Report of Marschall von Bieberstein. See also: Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, pp. 117–118. 55. Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935. 56. Foreign Ministry memorandum of 28 July 1934, file 83/75. 57. Fuehr memorandum of 9 Aug. 1934, Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, See also: Fuehr to Bülow-Schwanten, 8 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, frames 007248–007250. 58. Excerpts from Wesemann’s prison memoirs (1935–1936), p. 3.: in the possession of the Staatsarchiv, Basel; Gerichtarchiv KK2, vols. XV-XVI, no. 80. The full text of the memoirs has not survived, only the excerpts used by the Swiss in preparing the case against Wesemann in 1935–1936. For mention of Dora Güttler see interrogation report of Wesemann, 15 July 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 696–697. 59. For biographical background on Richter, see the files of the Berlin Document Center. Also see Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, p. 105. 60. Excerpts from Wesemann’s prison memoirs. 61. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 276, sub-page 15; Faber to Bülow-Schwanten, 6 Sept. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, frames 007394–007397. Here and elsewhere we are indebted to Dr. Maria Keipert of the German Foreign Ministry in Bonn for help in clarifying details about diplomats like Faber and Feine. 62. Charles was born in 1903 and retained a German passport. Walter was born in 1907 and carried a British one. Their landlord was a Mr. Gliddon whose son-in-law, Oscar Crisp, occupied the first floor flat with his wife.

3

ÉMIGRÉ TURNCOAT, SEPTEMBER 1934–F EBRUARY 1935 On 29 August 1934, the day after his return to Britain from the Continent, Wesemann sought an audience with Marschall von Bieberstein at the German Embassy in London. As von Bieberstein was away on holiday for six weeks, he was seen briefly by Albert Van Scherpenberg, the son-in-law of Finance Minister Schacht, and a diplomat in whom the Nazis had little faith. The conversation was brief, lasting only about four minutes, because Ambassador Hoesch had requested that the fewest possible Embassy staff have direct contact with Wesemann. Van Scherpenberg accordingly advised Wesemann to report to Rüter’s successor, First Secretary Bielfeld.1 Wesemann first divulged the plans of the British branch of the International Relief Committee for the Victims of Fascism to hold a mock trial in the autumn. This was the same organisation that staged a counter-trial in the autumn of 1933 regarding the responsibility for setting the Reichstag fire. Now the Relief Committee wanted to call witnesses who could testify personally to the use of official terror and violence by Nazis. Among those due to come to Britain to testify was a German émigré currently residing in New York, Kurt Rosenfeld.2 Wesemann also furnished information about similar anti-Nazi activities in America. In July, Clarence Darrow and others had protested the extraordinary and illegal measures used by the Nazis on 30 June to rid themselves of their political enemies. They planned to organize another

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protest in October, focusing on the People’s Courts which were dispensing arbitrary justice in Germany. To substantiate his claims, Wesemann provided an article from an international transport union publication. Also mentioned were Rennie Smith’s intention to issue a pamphlet under the auspices of the Friends of Europe, dealing with the Saar question, and the fact that English trade unions were planning to extend their boycott of German goods. On this occasion Wesemann was reimbursed £15. Early in September Wesemann proposed to Bielfeld that it might be a good idea for the Embassy to send him to the 66th annual conference of the Trades Union Congress which was soon to have a meeting in the seaside town of Weymouth.3 Nearly 600 delegates would be there, representing 200 British unions plus those from Canada and the United States, and refugees from Germany and Italy.4 The main items on the conference’s agenda were Fascism, War, and Peace, topics of considerable interest to the new powers in Germany. If the conference voted to denounce fascism, would it also condemn Soviet authoritarianism? As for war and peace, did not pacifism run counter to the age-old trade union doctrine of collective security against aggression? The Embassy was sufficiently intrigued with Wesemann’s proposal that they authorized him to attend. He was already well known in British trade union circles and at Transport House, Smith Square, so he mingled easily with the delegates. He particularly cultivated the acquaintance of two refugees, Edo Fimmen, Secretary General of the International Transport Workers Federation, who agreed to send him anti-Fascist materials put out by the Federation;5 and Fritz Kummer, a journalist whom Wesemann offered to assist in making contacts with the British press. Kummer later admitted, “I was uncomfortable about how pushy Wesemann was. I could not take a step without his following me. I wasn’t exactly suspicious, but it made me uncomfortable. I attributed this to Wesemann’s joy in finding a kindred spirit in England.” 6 The Weymouth conference also gave Wesemann the opportunity to renew his acquaintance with Carl Balleng, the former Secretary of the German Boilermakers and Machinists Union. He had been held in a concentration camp until Christmas 1933 when an amnesty for political prisoners was granted, and then he and his wife, Kathe, came to Great Britain. Bismarck did not wish to talk directly to Wesemann about the Weymouth conference, so asked that he give his report to Secretary Bielfeld. This allowed him to convey his own interpretation of its transactions to the Foreign Ministry in Berlin.7 Whereas Wesemann’s report suggested that both fascism of the Right and dictatorship of the Left had been

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condemned at the conference, and that collective security had been favored over pacifism, Bismarck resisted mentioning these decisions. He chose rather to point out that the international trade union movement as founded by Germans before the First World War had real power and influence, now it suffered from French and Belgian leadership. He claimed that even the British resented the partiality shown to French opinion by the Belgian General Secretary, Walter Schevenels, and therefore elected Walter Citrine, the head of the TUC in Great Britain, as President of the Congress. Bismarck attributed the anti-Fascist sentiment at the conference to statements by émigrés from Germany who “told the most beautiful horror stories” blaming Nazis for the systematic elimination of trade unions. At the same time, he acknowledged the power of this anti-Fascist propaganda in convincing the American Federation of Labor, who had sent delegates to the Congress, to join the fight against dictators.8 On 11 September Wesemann told Bielfeld that there were rumors circulating among the refugees that not only was a mock trial of the Führer about to be staged, but plans to start an anti-Nazi publishing company were well under way. Whether it was the nature of these allegations, or for other reasons of his own, Bielfeld began at this time to question the quality of Wesemann’s reports, which may account for the meager payment of £5 given for this information.9 Meanwhile, on 4 September the Gestapo wrote to the Foreign Ministry requesting that a passport be issued to Wesemann as soon as possible because he was going to be assigned special duties.10 His old passport, issued in Berlin in December 1929, carried the number 479/29 and would expire in December 1934. His new one was dated 12 September, and contrary to Rüter’s claim that all future passports would originate only in Berlin, his was processed by the Embassy in London and bore the number 1367/34. However, instead of being valid for the usual five years, it was good for only one year, reflecting the Nazi theory that German citizens abroad could more easily be controlled if they were required to renew their passports yearly. It is unclear what “special duties” the Gestapo had in mind when urgently requesting a renewal of Wesemann’s passport well before its expiration date. Wesemann may have stipulated that he be given a new passport, hoping to use it to travel to Venezuela in order to marry Carmen Hernandez. In any case, a trip to the Continent was hastily arranged, funded by Richter. He left Dover on 15 September for Calais, then went on to The Hague. After conferring with Faber, he traveled to Brussels. Not until 23 September did he arrive in Paris where he registered at the Home Hotel, 78 rue

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Blomet, his favorite accommodation. Undoubtedly he met with Carmen, but because Richter had instructed him to be in Cherbourg on 24 September, he could not linger. He was supposed to meet Richter aboard the German ship, Europa, but Richter never appeared. He learned later that Richter changed his mind about their being seen together by the French Sûreté.11 Returning to Paris, Wesemann tracked down the refugee journalist, Helmut Klotz, and pressed him to elaborate on several episodes he had included in a book he was seeking to publish. Klotz was a contemporary of Wesemann’s and had worked with him in the pre-Nazi era, but now found himself not only stateless but nearly destitute as well. As fellow journalists, they exchanged news about their former colleagues, Walter Gyssling, Gustav Warburg, and Gerald Bailey. They noted that Walter’s friend, Kitty Lackowitski, had a mother who was a notorious spy in Berlin, while Gustav had left the Hamburg Echo to coordinate publications for Jewish organizations in Britain, and Gerald was now Secretary of the London-based National Peace Council. Klotz listened with great interest to Wesemann’s claim that there was a London publisher prepared to translate and serialize one of his books in a British periodical if a mutually satisfactory understanding could be arrived at. However, the more Klotz sought particulars, the more vague Wesemann became, preferring to inquire about some letters in Klotz’s book describing the homosexual proclivities of the former SA leader Ernst Röhm, and seeking confirmation of rumors that Hitler had been involved in a homosexual liaison with a young man in Zurich who could be called upon to verify the charge.12 Before Wesemann left Paris it is likely that he got together with Berthold Jacob who was also in Paris between 23 and 27 September, since they resumed their correspondence shortly thereafter. In a letter to Jacob on 8 October, Wesemann repeated the allegations that Hitler had indulged in homosexual relations with Rudolf Hess as well as a young student in Zurich. Letters obtained from Willi Schlemann and in the possession of Otto Strasser further compromised Hitler.13 On 20 October he wrote to inform Jacob that he had convinced the “Jewish Committee” (by which he presumably meant the Board of Deputies of British Jews) to subscribe to Jacob’s news service, and he again urged Jacob to visit him in Britain.14 On 29 October Wesemann alerted Jacob that he would soon be coming to Strasbourg, leaving on 4 November, stopping off in Brussels, and then staying in Paris for one week during which he would plan to make a side trip to Strasbourg, most likely on 7 November.15 He assured Jacob that he

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would be carrying the book by Klotz which he had purchased at Jacob’s request.16 Wesemann sailed from Harwich for the Hook of Holland on 4 November, but his first destination was not Brussels. His instructions from Richter were to meet him on 5 November in the German town of Emmerich, close to the Dutch border. There, Richter presumably advised Wesemann to develop additional ties with Jacob. A plan was conceived whereby Wesemann would stay in the Saarland, seeking Jacob’s assistance in making valuable contacts in the region. Later that day he traveled to The Hague and renewed contact with Faber at the German Embassy. Arriving in Brussels, he spent some time on the 5th with Fritz Kummer from whom he sought information concerning conditions in the Church in Germany, a refugee club in Brussels, and what he knew about refugee circles in Paris, but Kummer pleaded ignorance regarding all these matters.17 On Tuesday the 6th Wesemann reached Paris. Ensconced in his favorite hotel on rue Blomet, he dashed off a letter to Jacob asking if it would be convenient to see him in Strasbourg on the weekend of 10–11 November. The two subsequently spent the better part of Saturday and Sunday together, pouring over Jacob’s personal archives relating to German rearmament which had accumulated over the years. They also made plans to meet again in about ten days to tour sectors of the Saarland. Later that Sunday evening Wesemann found a hotel at Saarbrücken and began planning his strategy for the next two weeks. He had been instructed by Richter to cultivate the acquaintance of Max Braun, the leader of the Deutsche Freiheitfront, a socialist group which opposed German annexation of the Saarland. Braun was editor of the newspaper in Saarbrücken, Deutsche Freiheit, and traveled throughout the region speaking against annexation. Wesemann arranged to accompany him as he drove from village to village seeking support for the Freiheit movement, and observed aloud the potential danger in operating so close to the German frontier, asking whether Braun’s chauffeur was reliable, and how fast his car could go if pursued by Nazi sympathizers. Wesemann even ascertained that he carried a weapon with him. While discussing where he planned to speak in the coming weeks, Wesemann reminded Braun of the recent kidnapping by the Gestapo of Heinrich Imbusch, the former Center Party deputy in the Reichstag and chairman of the Christian Workers Union (Christliche Gewerkschaft), but Braun declared that he ran no great risk because the Saar police would protect him. Nonetheless, scarcely a month later his son Ernst was tricked into setting foot on German soil and was promptly arrested.18

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As planned, Berthold Jacob arrived in Saarbrücken on Thursday, 15 November, his travel expenses having been augmented by 200 French francs which Wesemann had given him, money which had been secured from Richter. Jacob was in a state of excitement about a story he was ready to leak to the Havas Press Agency about Nazis who were organizing and training units of the Sturmabteilung in the Saar. He had information that regular officers of the German Wehrmacht were in charge, in clear violation of the region’s neutrality stipulated by the League of Nations. Max Braun urged him to share this story with the Deutsche Freiheit for a price of 2,000 francs.19 Jacob agreed, eagerly observing, “We will have ab solute proof that Germany was violating the Versailles Treaty by employing troops in the Saar territory; and the election for January 1935 will then be either postponed or canceled.” 20 On the evening of the 15th Wesemann was telephoned by Richter who asked him to come to Trier the next afternoon in order to meet someone who would be keenly interested in what he had learned while he was in Saarbrücken. This posed a problem for Wesemann because he had promised Jacob that he would accompany him on one last visit to the German frontier before he broke his story. Accordingly, the two of them went by train on Friday morning, 16 November, to the town of Hamburg near the German Palatinate border where they waited expectantly for a car to drive past, conveying illegal German military officers from Sweibrücken to the frontier. They also walked the two kilometers separating the French border from the Palatinate, hoping to see illicit German soldiers disguised as labor service workers.21 On their return journey back to Saarbrücken, Jacob told Wesemann one of the ways he had discovered discrepancies in the German records regarding the Saarland. While scanning the columns of German newspapers, searching for personal announcements such as engagements, weddings, and births, he realized that frequently the soldiers’ regiments were cited, yet some names that were mentioned were not listed on the official roster of military personnel furnished to the allied observers. Still intent on meeting Richter in Trier that day, Wesemann hastily bid goodbye to Jacob and boarded another train. He expected to be met by Richter personally, but instead found a stranger who identified himself as Hans Joachim Manz. At first Wesemann was taken aback by this giant of a man. “As he pushed open the door of the lounge, Manz’s hands were evi dent. They were huge, like a pair of clamps that would never release what they held in their grasp. I suddenly understood why the Berlin heavies called the most fearful detectives ‘grabbers.’” 22 Together they walked to Richter’s hotel where Wesemann reported what he had learned from Ja-

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cob, while Manz went in search of the French consul in order to procure a visa for a forthcoming trip to Paris. There was a third man in Richter’s room as a witness, but he said nothing. Wesemann surmised that he was in the military, although he was in mufti. The man thanked Wesemann for his considerable service to Germany, and concluded the meeting after Richter had arranged to meet Wesemann again in about ten days.23 On the morning of Saturday, 17 November, five British detectives were dispatched to apprehend the German officers who were supposed to be in the Saar, according to Jacob, but as Wesemann later said, “the nest was empty.” 24 Equally fruitless had been the search for German officers disguised as labor service workers in the Palatinate. Later that evening Richter phoned Wesemann to congratulate him. He also instructed him to meet Manz the next day in the small industrial town of Volklingen. On the train traveling the 20 miles from Saarbrücken to Volklingen, Wesemann suddenly recognized one of the other passengers: a man he had seen at the railway station in Trier who might be the French detective he had spotted once before in the Saarbrücken police station. Anxious not to implicate Manz, Wesemann nevertheless felt that he had to warn him. Somehow he gave a discreet signal as Manz entered the waiting room, and so he merely looked around, and went out again, followed by the French detective.25 Jacob was frustrated that his trap had failed, and returned, dejectedly, to Strasbourg, accompanied by the refugee German lawyer and writer, Rudolph Olden. Olden later recalled how peculiar he had found it that Jacob had taken Wesemann aside and conferred with him privately, because, like others in the émigré community, Olden knew of Wesemann’s reputation for shiftiness and sharp practice. However, Jacob was still convinced that Wesemann was a master at generating money and getting things done, talents which he could someday put to good use.26 Furthermore, he was desperate to get a passport, and Wesemann held out hope of obtaining one. Accompanied by his former wife, Wesemann returned to Paris on Sunday, 25 November. Flushed with a feeling of success, he decided to approach the German Embassy and offer them his services in a similar manner as he had in London and The Hague. He spoke with Theodor Auer who had spent some years in London before being transferred to Paris in 1933. Auer was unimpressed by the information Wesemann supplied, and also harbored doubts about his reliability.27 Remembering that Georg Wolfgang Hallgarten, the German historian, now lived nearby as an exile in Versailles, Wesemann contacted him and tried to pry loose certain unpublished documents which he promised to

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place in the British press.28 In the 1920s he and Georg were students together at Freiburg and had both belonged to the same republican circles. However, Hallgarten had good reason to avoid meeting Wesemann because he had never been paid for an article on Bavaria which appeared in Vorwärts back in 1923–1924. However, Hallgarten chose to overlook this omission and said, “He was a good talker with the habit of bragging about himself. He also inclined toward debauchery, but I still regarded him as a good friend.” 29 He reiterated his loyalty after spending an evening with him in 1934. “Toward the end of November I saw Wesemann in his hotel, on rue Blomet. I went to his room which was in great disorder, resulting from either a battle or an orgy. Many empty bottles, especially champagne, were on a table.” 30 This time, sensing some kind of irregularity, Hallgarten resisted the temptation to part with his documents. Wesemann saw Richter in Frankfurt-am-Main on 29 November and briefed him on the situation in the Saar. He also reminded Richter of the voluntary nature of his service, and repeated his intention to leave for Venezuela at the earliest possible moment, suggesting that perhaps the time had come for him to conclude his work for the Gestapo. Richter appeared to accept his declaration, and expressed his appreciation for work well done. At the same time, he expressed his regret that their gentleman’s agreement had been so short-lived. While Wesemann was in the Saarland during the latter half of November, Hans Joachim Manz was in Paris, independently carrying out separate orders from Richter. Manz never admitted that he was a full-time official working for the Gestapo, but, like Wesemann, he claimed to be a freelance “patriot” who undertook special assignments for Richter. More specifically, he asserted that he was a liaison between Richter’s office and Abteilung III-A of the German Defense Ministry under Major Walter Buch.31 According to his passport, Manz was born in Cologne on 16 June 1893. During the First World War he served on several submarines, rising to the rank of Captain or Commander. After the war he became a member of the freicorps, determined to fight German communists. Still later, he became a security guard on the German railways and joined the Nazi Party, although no evidence of his membership exists in the files at the Berlin Document Center. Eventually he worked in the nautical department of the North German Lloyd banking and shipping concern, with the courtesy title of Captain.32 When Manz, alias Mattern, entered France on 16 November, the day he met Wesemann at the railway station in Trier, he told immigration officials that he represented a German monastery and the Bishop of Speyer.33

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However, on registering at the Royal Madeleine Hotel in Paris, he indicated that he was a businessman, aged 41, born in Troisdorf. To those he met he stated that his business had to do with improving Franco-German relations, especially among former war veterans. Prior to coming to Paris, Manz had provided himself with a good contact there. In August 1934 the publisher of L’Ancien Avocat à la Cour d’ Appel, Charles Fabiani, visited Germany, and they had met several times and reminisced about their experiences during the war. They agreed that it would be desirable for veterans from both Germany and France to meet together and promote the cause of peace.34 Accordingly, when Fabiani returned to Paris he contacted a German émigré friend of his, Franz Duhr, to tell him about having met Manz, an influential ex-German naval officer, and suggested that Manz might be useful to Duhr in unfreezing some of his industrial assets in Germany. Toward the end of November, to Duhr’s astonishment, Manz arrived unannounced at his room in the Hotel Malherbes. Corpulent, blond, and robust, Manz boasted of his police-related activities, claiming he had arrested SA leader Karl Ernst during the purge of the SA in late June 1934, and had escorted him on a plane back to Berlin where he was subsequently imprisoned and executed. Manz also alluded to the fact that he had been in Paris before on Gestapo business. He asked Duhr to introduce him to French war veterans who might be persuaded to visit the New Germany under his auspices via the North German Lloyd.35 Henri Lefeuvre, a veteran French officer and restauranteur, was therefore presented to Manz who asked him to draw up a list of French veterans who might be interested in traveling to Germany and promoting good will.36 Subsequently, Lefeuvre invited another restauranteur and a reserve French officer, Pierre Hanrion, to meet Manz.37 He, in turn, introduced Manz to an Italian businessman, Jules Ottolini. On this occasion, Manz posed as a promoter of trade fairs in Bremen, Hamburg, Hanover, and Königsberg.38 Prior to leaving Paris on 22 November, Manz, seemingly embarrassed, asked Duhr to pay his hotel and restaurant bills because of the difficulty of taking German Marks out of the country and converting them to foreign currency. He promised to return to Paris with the payment, but Duhr never heard from him again. Until this time, Wesemann was kept from knowing about Manz’s activities, and Manz was not told about the assignments Richter was giving to Wesemann, yet both were aware that they shared a common controller. The first day of December found Wesemann in The Hague again, calling on Faber at the Embassy. This time, however, his reception was less

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cordial. Faber had become mistrustful of Wesemann’s information which he felt often came from press notices and not from private sources. Consequently, he told Wesemann that there was no special assignment for him at present. Thus, by mid-December Wesemann was back in London, and lost little time reporting to Marschall von Bieberstein. It was only six weeks until the Saar referendum, and many in the Embassy were eager to hear his assessment of the situation.39 On the other hand, his own agenda included making a logical break with the Embassy, since his financial retainers had been primarily for information relating to the Saar, and attempts by refugees to stir up trouble there. Moreover, he had already alerted Carmen to expect him in Caracas toward the end of January. During the time he had left to him in London, there were several items of unfinished business he wanted to conclude. One involved a German named Rudolf Krause with whom he had conferred in London at the end of May. Several letters addressed to Krause arrived at Wesemann’s lodgings while he was not there, so his landlady, Mrs. Crisp, being somewhat suspicious, surreptitiously opened one of them. It contained a schedule of sailings by a Danish shipping company between Vancouver, British Columbia, and Copenhagen, and indicated that Krause would be boarding one of these vessels in San Francisco, and planned to arrive in London on 17 December. Wesemann assumed that this was Krause’s way of telling him to meet him before he sailed on to Copenhagen.40 The following day Wesemann received a most welcome offer from Ralph Deakin, head of the Imperial and Foreign Department of The Times of London. “You are authorized to act as occasional Correspondent of The Times at Caracas and to report on any event of definite interest to the paper and to its readers.” He was to be paid at the rate of one guinea per arti cle, or proportionally less for a shorter notice; a major column-length story would bring £4.41 With an assurance of gainful employment, he deposited £40 with the shipping firm of Elder and Fyffe to cover the cost of an entry visa required by the Venezuelan government, and booked passage on the Coronada, sailing from Southampton on 12 January.42 Meanwhile, back in December, Wesemann accepted an invitation by his old friend, Werner Hitzemeyer, who asked him to join their mutual acquaintance, Werner Kohlberg, for a meal at the Regent Palace Hotel.43 As a German citizen involved in the import and export of textiles, Kohlberg wanted to talk to Wesemann about his recent trip to the Saarland because the upcoming referendum in January 1935 would affect Kohlberg’s business, depending on whether the Saar remained under international control or reverted to Germany. Once Wesemann finished reporting on his

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visit, the conversation turned to lighter matters, and he asked Kohlberg to tell him the latest jokes being circulated in Germany. Kohlberg obliged, and they all had a good laugh. A few days later, on 21 December, Kohlberg left for Germany to spend the Christmas holidays with his family, but within a month he was in a Gestapo prison, and Wesemann was blamed for putting him there. In order to assess the charge, one needs to trace Kohlberg’s career and uncover how he and Wesemann came to know each other. Werner was born at Elberfeld on 14 March 1892, and grew up knowing the Hitzemeyers very well as neighbors. After the first World War he went into business, and by 1930 was the manager of a department store in Berlin, DEFAKA (Deutsches Familien Kaufhaus). By then the great depression was taking hold of Germany, and his family friend, Werner Hitzemeyer, was down on his luck, so Kohlberg gave him a part-time job at the store, and it was while working at the store that he introduced Wesemann to Kohlberg. As a journalist and Social Democrat, Wesemann always knew the latest gossip floating around political and social circles, and shared it with Kohlberg who passed it on to certain of his customers who were government officials. Kohlberg later recalled that he had read several of Wesemann’s articles in Die Welt am Montag, and remembered that Goebbels had threatened to get even with the journalist who fabricated an outrageous and fictional interview with Hitler. Kohlberg therefore assumed, when the two met again in Britain in 1933, that Wesemann was a staunch and outspoken socialist. Both were lodging near each other in Kent, and since Wesemann had access to a car, and he and Hitzemeyer drove to London almost every day, Kohlberg sometimes hitched a ride with them. Kohlberg had intended to stay in Britain only one month, but because he was the co-owner with his two brothers of a textile firm in Düsseldorf, the Hermann Kohlberg company, he became the exclusive representative of Liberty Department Store for exports to Germany, and remained another seventeen months in England. In 1934 he went back and forth between Britain and Germany every two weeks. It was difficult to sell British goods in Germany because Germans were not supposed to convert more than a small amount of their currency into foreign exchange. However, Kohlberg had contacts in the Nazi bureaucracy who facilitated purchases from Liberty’s. At the end of that year, the total value of his orders from Germany amounted to £2361–4–7, while his own commission was £159–19–4.

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After spending Christmas 1934 in Düsseldorf, he went to Berlin and stayed at the Pension Sterme on the Kurfurstendamm. There, on 19 January 1935, the police arrested him. Over the next two days he was interrogated three times, two of these under the personal direction of Dr. Walter Richter. Was this purely a coincidence, or had Wesemann tipped off Richter to the stories that Kohlberg had told at the expense of the Nazi leadership at their dinner together in December at the Regent Palace Hotel? When the charges against him were formally read aloud on 21 January, they stated, “by Paragraph 1 of the order dated 28–2–1933 from the President of the Reich . . . I [Richter] put you under protective arrest until further notice. Causes: During your several visits to London you have spread fantastic tales about Germany and you have exposed leading persons of the Reich and state government to public contempt. This was done with the intention to undermine the confidence of foreign countries against the German government and to do harm to the German economic position.” 44 Kohlberg spent eight weeks in the notorious Berlin prison, Columbia House. Then he was recalled for another session with Richter, but this time there was a stranger who made detailed accusations against him. In retrospect, Kohlberg thought that this heavy-set man was Hans Manz. What had so unnerved him was that this person, whom Kohlberg had never seen, was able to describe in minute detail the meeting of the three friends at the Regent Palace Hotel. He was never sure whether Manz had been sitting at a nearby table and had overheard everything, or whether Wesemann had betrayed him. Since no evidence exists that would put Manz in London at the time, Wesemann became the likely source. On the other hand, Wesemann stoutly denied this. While Kohlberg languished in Columbia House, his wife made his plight known to the manager of Liberty’s export and shipping department, B. Watts, who inquired of the British Consul-General in Berlin the nature of the charges pending against Kohlberg. Besides the one already quoted, there was another: “contravening the German currency regulations.” 45 One might assume that this second allegation was merely a trumped-up charge to justify holding Kohlberg longer. However, the currency count had more truth behind it, and may, in the end, have been the more serious crime. When Kohlberg came to Britain in July 1933 he smuggled the equivalent of £100 out of Germany, and with this opened an account at Barclays Bank in Gillingham. During 1934, with all his coming and goings, he was able to conceal added quantities of German marks on his person, so that by the end of the year his bank balance was £322–14–4. Kohlberg may have hoped eventually to emigrate to Britain and start an

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import-export business, since he was well off financially. Not only did he have his commissions from Liberty’s, but in 1934 he received between £150–200 as his share in the Dusselldorf firm. He also had the equivalent of £500 in several German bank accounts. However, most of his personal wealth was tied up in Germany, and legally he could only hope to take the equivalent of about ten shillings out of Germany every time he went abroad. If he could ever persuade the British authorities to grant him residency, he would have to prove that he was financially sound, which was the presumed rationale for accumulating a comfortable balance at Barclays Bank. It is quite likely that the German authorities discovered what he was doing, and even though they could not gain access to his account at Barclays, they wanted to keep him under wraps while they investigated further. Whatever their evidence, he spent the next year in a concentration camp. Given these apparent financial irregularities, it is hard to know how instrumental Wesemann was in Kohlberg’s arrest and confinement, but Wesemann’s report describing his dinner with Kohlberg provided Richter with a convenient excuse to arrest him. Kohlberg was finally released in late May 1936 and resumed his business activities in both Germany and Britain.46 He revived his relationship with Liberty’s, and for the rest of the 1930s tried to secure British residency but without success. Almost interned once war broke out, he contrived to serve with the Pioneer Corps which was made up of other refugees, and worthily served the British war effort. On 11 January 1835, after what was scheduled to be Wesemann’s final meeting with Marschall von Bieberstein, he returned to his Milton Park lodgings at about 6:00 P.M. and found a telegram awaiting him. It was from Richter, whom he had not talked to or heard from since late November, and it instructed him to postpone his departure for Venezuela and come to Hamburg as soon as possible. Obeying reluctantly, Wesemann arranged to cross the channel aboard the New York, sailing from Dover. At the same time, thinking that whatever Richter wanted it would be short-lived, he booked a ticket to Venezuela on the Cavina, scheduled to sail from Southampton on 26 January. When he arrived in Hamburg, Richter was once again nowhere to be seen, but had left a message directing Wesemann to proceed to Hannover where they would meet the following day. Richter was not alone when he arrived; Manz was also in the room. After lengthy preliminaries, Wesemann was told that his mission involved gathering intelligence in Copenhagen, and another meeting of the three men was scheduled for one week hence in Warnemunde, a town on the

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German side of the frontier with Denmark. Wesemann learned that he was to seek information about three subjects. First, he was told to find out about the Marxist organization called the Miles Group; second, he was asked to look into the anti-Nazi activities of a few prominent German exiles living in Denmark, such as the former Social Democratic leader, Philipp Scheidemann; and third, he was encouraged to curry favor with Carl Balleng who had recently moved to Copenhagen. The Miles Group was engaged in sending German émigrés with Danish passports as couriers between Denmark and Germany in order to maintain contact with members of illegal union and socialist organizations in Germany.47 “Leaflets, brochures, photographs, and other inflam matory materials went across the sea via Gedser, Eysberg, and Bornholm to Hamburg, Kiel, and Flensburg.” They were also sent overland via Sonderburg and Apenrede, concealed in the bellies of herring and conveyed by fishermen to German ports, or placed in barrels of exported Danish butter.48 In these deceptions, the refugees received financial and moral support from Danish socialists. Wesemann paid little attention to Philipp Scheidemann, a member of the Old Left SDP whose belief in the inevitability of Hitler’s overthrow by the provoked proletariat was well known. However, he spent a good deal of time with Karl and Käthe Balleng. After taking the overnight train from Warnemunde, he registered at the Terminus Hotel in Copenhagen on Sunday, 25 January. Later in the day he contacted Balleng, reminding him of their meeting at the Weymouth conference through a mutual friend, Robin de Gruchy. The Ballengs lived in a two-room flat at 4 Wesselsgade which doubled as the headquarters of the Machinists Union. Shortly after the Reichstag fire, the treasury of the Union, which amounted to nearly 4,000 Danish krone, was smuggled out of Germany thanks to the quick thinking of the German branch president, Laurits Hansen. Since then Copenhagen had been its headquarters, with Carl Balleng as secretary, in charge of its activities and membership files. His job also entailed frequent travel between Britain, France, and Belgium.49 Through the Ballengs, Wesemann was introduced to the secretary of the local German refugee association of Social Democrats, Richard Hansen, but he didn’t have time enough to meet Käthe Balleng’s parents, Herr and Frau Hermann Kleber, who were both active in refugee circles, because he was obliged to leave Copenhagen late Thursday evening, 29 January, to confer again with Richter in Warnemunde. On Friday, 30 January, without any explanation, Carl Balleng took a train into Germany, and upon arriving in Berlin was promptly arrested

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and imprisoned by the Gestapo. Two days later Käthe Balleng received a telegram from her husband, asking her to meet him in Flensburg. When she complied, she too was arrested. Three weeks later she was freed, and remained in Germany awaiting Karl’s release, and in the meanwhile, lived with his parents in Berlin. Carl Balleng was still being held by the Nazis well into the autumn of 1935. One month before Wesemann went to Copenhagen, he had written to Berthold Jacob, saying that Balleng had told him that he had recently slipped back into Germany to make contact with someone in the Reichswehr Ministry in Berlin.50 Wesemann added,

Balleng told me he hoped to go to Germany in the near future to work there underground. He said he would write to me from Berlin to prove that he was there. He would send postcards in care of de Gruchy’s fiancée, since that would not arouse suspicion. Balleng actually did spend December 1934 in Berlin where he stayed at the Kaserkrone hotel on Friedrichstrasse under his real name.51

On the morning of Sunday, 1 February, Hans Joachim Manz registered at Copenhagen’s Terminus Hotel. About 5:00 P.M. Monday afternoon he went to 4 Wesselsgade and tried to let himself in, but the key would not work. He kept trying until the racket alerted the cleaning woman, Helene Lindquist, who confronted him and asked what he wanted. In broken Danish he explained that the Ballengs had given him their keys so that, as their attorney, he could retrieve some papers for them while they were on holiday. Since he seemed legitimate, she saw no reason to deny him entry, and politely showed him how to insert the key by turning it the other way up. Feeling responsible for the Ballengs’ possessions, she accompanied Manz into the flat while he searched. As soon as he found the papers he was looking for, he stuffed them in his briefcase, assuring her that he was after nothing other than the items he took. On his way out he mentioned that the Ballengs would be back in about five days, and offered her two krone for her trouble, but she refused them.52 Not long afterwards, officials of the Boiler and Machine Maintenance Union disclosed that their membership and other records had been stolen, giving rise to fears among hundreds of anti-fascist Germans in and out of Germany that they had been compromised and made more vulnerable to Gestapo surveillance. In 1943, William Gillies of the British Trades Union Congress wrote the following letter to the TUC president, Walter Citrine.

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May I further refer to what you said about German comrades who were found to be spies. Wesemann is not important, so far as the I.F.T.U. [International Federation of Trade Unions] is concerned, but Balleng is important. There was a meeting of the General Council of the I.F.T.U. in Weymouth in the week during the Tolpuddle Martyrs celebrations (August, 1934). At the second session there was a discussion on anti-Fascist action. It was held in public so far as action in democratic countries was concerned, and in private in connection with Germany and Austria. I was present. There was a German speaker, who was present, I believe, as a delegate or substitute for the Metal Workers’ Trades Secretariat. I did not speak to him, but I did not like him, and said so to Bolton. He replied that everybody knew Balleng of the German Metal Workers. At that very moment when he was addressing the I.F.T.U. Conference, he was a Gestapo agent. Wesemann was with him in Weymouth. I learned later that he had recommended Balleng for assistance from the International Solidarity Fund. Both Wesemann and Balleng then went to Denmark where Wesemann was alleged to have kidnapped Balleng!! It was then reported that Balleng had been sent to a German Concentration Camp. His wife, however, had followed him into Germany. Later, it was announced that Balleng had been released, and the SPD in Prague included his name on their privately circulated Warning List as a representative of the Gestapo. I did not believe in the kidnapping incident in Denmark and neither did the Yard. David Grenfell had told Bolton, who did not tell me, that he had overheard a conversation between two German Merchant Navy Officers outside the Booking Office in Swansea. They were talking about Balleng and making jokes about the clever things which he had done in this country. I did not, of course, know either Balleng or Wesemann, and did not know that either was getting help from the International Solidarity Fund. But, in Denmark, Wesemann gave your name and mine as references. When talking to Otto Wels about Balleng, he said to me that the Metal Workers’ leaders were always a bad lot. I did not even know that Wesemann was at Weymouth, nor did I even know his name at that time.53

Notwithstanding this assessment, there is a document in the German Foreign Ministry archives which contradicts its assertions. On 8 April 1935 State Secretary Bülow-Schwanten reviewed the evidence in the case and noted that, following his release from a concentration camp in 1933, Balleng went abroad and became active in the émigré and opposition press in Copenhagen. He also became involved in espionage. One of his contacts was an official in the Prussian Ministry of the Interior. “So Wesemann was given the mission to lure Balleng to Germany. He succeeded in doing this . . . and Balleng was arrested together with his accomplice in the latter’s office in the Ministry.” 54

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Therefore, whatever Wesemann said later to the contrary, he was clearly implicated in this conspiracy, and as in the case of Kohlberg’s arrest, was betraying his erstwhile colleagues and acquaintances.

NOTES 1. Report of Van Scherpenberg, 29 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, frame M007408. 2. Report of Bielfeld, 15 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007399–M007400. Wesemann cited as his informant Mr. Lane, secretary of the Relief Committee in London. Bielfeld’s report of a conversation with Wesemann on 29 Aug. 1934 was enclosed with Bismarck’s dispatch to the German Foreign Ministry of 31 Aug. 1934, German Foreign Ministry archives, Bonn, Inland II, vol. 3, file 83/75. 3. Bielfeld’s record of his conversation with Wesemann of 7 Sept. 1934 was enclosed in Bismarck’s dispatch to the Foreign Ministry of 10 Sept. Only Bismarck’s cover letter survives in German Foreign Ministry archives, file 83/75. 4. For coverage of the conference of the Trades Union Congress at Weymouth, see The Times (London), 3 Sept. 1934, p. 7; 4 Sept., p. 6; 5 Sept., p. 6; 6 Sept., p. 14; 8 Sept., p. 17; and 10 Sept., p. 13. 5. Letter of Fimmen to Wesemann, 8 Oct. 1934, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 275. 6. Letter from Kummer to Schneider, 23 March 1935, ibid., pp. 126–128. 7. Bismarck to Foreign Ministry, 18 Sept. 1934, German Foreign Ministry archives, file 83/75. 8. Walter Citrine urged the American delegates to support the Internationaler Gewerksschaftbund (International Congress) as a prelude to his planned subsequent visit to America. 9. Bielfeld report of 15 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, frames M007399–M007400. 10. Gestapo to Foreign Ministry, 4 Sept. 1934, and German Embassy, London, to Foreign Ministry, 12 Sept. 1934, German Foreign Ministry archives, file 83/75. 11. Interrogation report of Wesemann, 11 July 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 684–689. See also: German Foreign Ministry to von Hoesch, 8 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, frames M007241–M007247. 12. Report of the interrogation of Helmut Klotz, 28 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 617–630. 13. Wesemann to Jacob, 8 Oct. 1934, ibid., item 18. 14. Wesemann to Jacob, 20 Oct. 1934, ibid., item 19. 15. Wesemann to Jacob, 29 Oct. 1934, ibid., item 21. 16. Wesemann to Jacob, 2 Nov. 1934, ibid., item 22. 17. Letter from Fritz Kummer to Schneider, 23 March 1935, ibid., pp. 126–129. 18. Max Braun’s account of Wesemann’s visit to the Saar can be found in the Arbeiter-Zeitung (Basel) for 27 March 1935, p. 5.

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19. Excerpts from the prison memoirs of Hans Wesemann (1935–1936), Staatsarchiv, Basel, Gerichtsarchiv, KK2, vols. XV-XVI, no. 80, pp. 6–15. 20. Ibid. 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid. Other references to Manz can be found in the Wesemann case file. These include the interrogation report of Wesemann, 25 April 1935, pp. 500–503, plus supplementary statements, pp. 617–630. 23. Ibid. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid., p. 16. 26. Ganz report of 26 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 254–255. 27. German Embassy, Paris, to German Foreign Ministry, 8 May 1936, Foreign Ministry archives, Bonn, Inland II, vol. 3, file 83/78. 28. Interrogation report of G. W. Hallgarten, 28 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 617–630. 29. Ibid. Hallgarten and Wesemann saw each other in 1924–1925 in Geneva, and again in 1930 in Berlin. 30. Ibid. 31. Reinhard Heydrich, head of the security service within the SS, claimed that Manz had no official association with the Gestapo. Prison memoirs of Hans Wesemann, Staatsarchiv, Basel, p. 16. 32. The company later denied knowing anything about him. 33. Wesemann case, Staatsarchiv, Basel, pp. 565–566. 34. Ibid. p. 437. Interrogation report of Charles Fabiani. 35. Ibid. pp. 617–630. Interrogation report of Franz Duhr. 36. Ibid., pp. 439–440. Interrogation report of Henri Lefeuvre. Lefeuvre never complied with this request, and Manz never repeated his appeal. 37. Ibid., p. 443. Interrogation report of Pierre Hanrion. 38. Ibid., p. 441. Interrogation report of Jules Ottolini. 39. On 15 December Wesemann received £10 for the information he supplied. 40. The nature of their collaboration is unclear, but it seems likely that Krause was also working for the Gestapo. 41. Wesemann case, Staatsarchiv, Basel, p. 276, item 33. 42. Half of his fare was given to him by his fiancée, and the other half came from Marschall von Bieberstein. Wesemann case, pp. 481–484; and report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5–36, frames M00740l-M007405. 43. There is an extensive file on Kohlberg at the Home Office, London, file K-484. 44. Ibid. Kohlberg kept a copy of the charges which he later shared with the Special Branch of Scotland Yard in 1936. 45. Ibid. Special Branch report of 14 June 1935. 46. Kohlberg’s German attorney later told him that one reason he was kept in a concentration camp until late May 1936 was that the German authorities did not want him called as a witness in Wesemann’s trial which took place in early May 1936 in Switzerland.

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47. Walter Löwenheim, originally a Communist, used the pseudonym “Miles” in 1933 when writing his revolutionary pamphlet, “Neu Beginnen! Faschismus oder Sozialismus,” published in Karlsbad by Graphia, the publishing house of Sopade, the German Social Democratic Party Abroad. 48. Ibid., prison memoirs of Hans Wesemann, p. 21. 49. Further details concerning Balleng can be found in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 276–289. 50. Wesemann to Jacob, 21 Dec. 1934, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 766, item 32. 51. Ibid., pp. 417–424. Interrogation report of Wesemann, 11 July 1935. 52. Copenhagen police report of 26 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 282–283. 53. Letter from William Gillies to Walter Citrine, 29 Oct. 1943, reprinted with the kind permission of the Labour Party History Archive and Study Centre, John Rylands University of Manchester. 54. Memorandum of Bülow-Schwanten, 8 April 1935, German Foreign Ministry archives, Bonn, Inland II, vol. 3, file 83/75.

4

THE ABDUCTION OF BERTHOLD JACOB, MARCH 1935 By this time Wesemann was caught in the Nazi web of intrigue and intimidation, whether he meant to be or not. Richter was determining his whereabouts as well as his everyday activities, and his plan to extricate himself became less and less possible. Once again he had failed to leave for Venezuela, and his handlers kept a vigilant eye on him. Right after Balleng’s entrapment, Richter advised him to remain in Hamburg for a few days. Then he was told to go to the Netherlands where he met Manz briefly. He spent the night of 9 February in Rotterdam, and then went to Brussels. On the 10th and 11th of February he met with Fritz Kummer there, resuming the acquaintance he had initiated at the Weymouth conference. Kummer was struck by Wesemann’s comparative affluence, as measured by the First Class rail accommodations he talked about, and his references to several different women he claimed to have escorted. He also mentioned visiting Ypres, the scene of some of his First World War experiences.1 On the evening of 12 February he began a month-long stay in Paris at his favorite Home Hotel. Richter had not yet divulged his next assignment, so he continued to ferret out refugees, usually journalists known to him in the Weimar days. Among others, he talked with Botho Laserstein, a former lawyer and journalist whom he had consulted in 1929 or 1930. Laserstein had never trusted Wesemann very much, and recoiled when asked to write an article on Hitler’s love life based on information

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Wesemann would supply about a former male lover who had been pensioned off by the Führer. At the end of February Wesemann received word to join Richter and Manz in Basel. The three of them stayed at the St. Gotthard Hotel. On the 27th Richter proposed some sight-seeing, so they met at noon and boarded a train for Luzern. They were able to secure a compartment to themselves where Richter unfolded a plot to lure Berthold Jacob to Basel and then spirit him across the German border. He assured Wesemann and Manz that the kidnapping would be “child’s play” because the border guards “sleep down there. On the Swiss side there is no barrier, and we will see to it that it is open on the German side.” 2 Wesemann was to be the cheese in the mousetrap, using the promise of a passport as bait. At about 9:30 on the evening of the 28th, Wesemann arrived in Strasbourg by train and went directly to Jacob’s flat at 16 Chemin Martin. Else Jacob had already retired to bed, but Berthold was awake and offered to take him to the Lokal tavern for a drink. In the course of their conversation, Wesemann mentioned that, with luck, an acquaintance of his could supply a passport from one of three countries: Germany, Luxembourg, or Czechoslovakia. Jacob indicated that he would prefer a German one, and agreed that a trip to Basel would be no difficulty since he already had plans to meet someone there. He also admitted that he knew an official at the border crossing at St. Louis who would let him leave and return, even though his papers were not quite in order. Wesemann came prepared with 500 French francs, part to go toward the projected trip, and part to help Jacob repay a current debt. Jacob was delighted that Wesemann was willing to be of assistance and could afford to be so generous.3 Before parting, they agreed to meet for lunch the next day, along with Jacob’s wife. Meanwhile, Richter returned to Germany to clear the kidnapping plan with Günther Patschowsky, his superior at Gestapo headquarters. Patschowsky came to the attention of the Nazis when, as a lawyer in Breslau, he earned a reputation by prosecuting political and press offenses committed by Social Democrats and Communists. It is therefore not surprising that he was admitted to the Nazi Party in June 1931. As a public prosecutor he continued to harass the political left, and in 1933 became a member of the security service of the SS. For a time he headed Abteilung IV (later renamed Abteilung III), which was involved with Gestapo counter-espionage, but when Reinhard Heydrich became head of the Sicherheitsdienst (SD) in 1934, Patschowsky was chosen to keep track of Party members at home and abroad. For Richter to be able to authorize the kidnapping of Jacob, Patschowsky needed the permission of his superior, Heydrich, and perhaps Himmler.

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While Wesemann was biding his time in Paris awaiting final orders, he wanted Jacob to think that he was actually in London. Therefore, he arranged to have one of the Hitzemeyer brothers post a letter from Wesemann, so it would seem to come from England, in which Wesemann assured Jacob that there was still a good chance that he would be able to come to Britain. In the letter Wesemann said he would be returning to Paris on 6 March, the day that Manz and another conspirator known to Wesemann as Gustav Krause were making their way to Basel. Krause entered Switzerland with a passport in the name of “Gustav Otto,” born 18 September 1887.4 He had been commandeered to act as a chauffeur, and accordingly went to Zurich the next day to hire a car, dressed in a genuine Swiss driver’s cap. On 7 March Wesemann telegraphed Jacob from Paris, asking him to phone the following day. When he did, Wesemann confirmed that everything was ready for them to meet “Herr Mattern” (Manz), the man from Liechtenstein who would have the German passport for him on Saturday, 9 March, in Basel. Jacob confirmed that he would be there. Wesemann forwarded another 2,000 French francs so that Jacob would be sure to have enough money with him to purchase a false passport.5 After being thus assured by Jacob that he was definitely planning to come to Basel, Wesemann prepared to leave Paris, but first he telephoned his former wife, Ilse, and mentioned to her that he was going out of town for a while, and would be stopping briefly in Basel. He checked out of his hotel on Friday afternoon, 8 March, and caught the 4:00 P.M. train to Basel, arriving in time to spend the evening with the other conspirators at the Gotthard Hotel. Richter had brought along Adolf Reiss, a World War I veteran from Lörrach, a town in Germany just across the Rhine. He was there to advise them of the best route by car from Basel to the border. After thoroughly rehearsing the plans, Richter and Reiss left for Lörrach, and Manz and Wesemann went out for a beer at a nearby restaurant. It was Fastnacht (Shrove Tuesday), and the revelry was already well under way: crowds of people surged in and out of the dining room festooned with streamers, singing, and waving their glasses and steins. With all the noise and exuberance it was easy for Wesemann and Manz to talk confidentially. Manz reported that the kidnapping had been approved by both the head of the Gestapo and the Ministry of Defense (Reichswehr). He also assured Wesemann that the tall, taciturn Krause was one of the best Gestapo agents in spite of having been stopped by a policeman for speeding while timing the drive from Basel to the border.6 On Saturday, 9 March, the appointed day, Wesemann, Manz, and Krause made one more test drive in the morning, and then waited for Ja-

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cob. At 4:00 P.M. there was still no sign of him, and Wesemann decided to go out for a walk in the chilly afternoon twilight. There was a hint of snow in the air. He passed a post office, and on impulse telegraphed Strasbourg, asking if Jacob was on his way. From the top of a hill he could see the Black Forest where, as a student, he had often skied, and this reverie calmed his nerves a little. When he got back to the Gotthard at 6:00 P.M., Jacob was in the lounge, sipping coffee. He related how a friendly French border official had provided a written statement guaranteeing his right to return to France, and because he had been uncertain whether he would be staying overnight in Basel, he had left his luggage with this official. At about 6:45 P.M. Jacob and Wesemann set off on foot for the Schiefes Eck (the Crooked Corner), the restaurant where they were supposed to meet the man from Liechtenstein, “Herr Mattern,” who would have the promised passport. Located on Kleinbasel at the end of the Amazon Bridge, it was crowded and cheerful, and both men enjoyed a good meal accompanied by liberal amounts of wine and liqueurs. Eventually the burly and jovial Manz arrived, and for a while they exchanged clever banter. In time, however, Manz and Jacob got down to business. Jacob showed the photos he had brought of both his wife and

The car used for the kidnapping of Berthold Jacob. (Photograph copyright Staatsarchiv Basel-Stadt. Reproduced by permission of Staatsarchiv Basel-Stadt.)

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The scene of the crime at the Swiss-German border. (Photograph copyright Staatsarchiv Basel-Stadt. Reproduced by permission of Staatsarchiv Basel-Stadt.)

himself, hoping that he could obtain two passports. He offered to pay 1,200 Swiss francs, but Manz acted as if he were expecting 1,500. Finally Manz agreed to the lower figure, and explained that it would be necessary to go to his apartment in the suburbs of Riehen in order to fill in the necessary information and affix the photographs to the blank passports. When Jacob stood to leave the restaurant he was very dizzy, and stumbled on the doorsill. Wesemann lent him support, and bundled him into the back seat of a waiting automobile. This was at about 8:30 P.M. The car proceeded at a sedate pace through the streets crowded with holiday-makers, but once outside the city, increased its speed. It approached the frontier via Hiltalingerstrasse in the outlying district of Kleinhueingen. Suddenly the chauffeur pushed the accelerator pedal to the floor and nearly ran over the Swiss border guards in a dash to get over the bridge connecting the two countries. On the German side the barrier was already raised, and they easily entered Well an Rhein. When Jacob heard a German officer yell, “Stop for the frontier!” he quickly roused himself from his slumber. Everyone was asked for their papers, and when Jacob’s were not in order, the driver was instructed to proceed to a nearby police station. Manz and Wesemann made a show of

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assuring Jacob that this was only a formality and everything would turn out all right, but Jacob recognized the trap, and knew he had been duped. With Krause still acting as chauffeur, Wesemann, Manz, and Jacob were driven to the police station at Lörrach, where Manz demanded that he be given access to a Swiss diplomat, explaining that they were in Germany only because his stupid chauffeur had taken a wrong turn. Jacob, however, noticed that the German police seemed unusually expectant, and were focusing their attention entirely on him, ignoring Manz and Wesemann. One of them grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into an adjoining room where he was questioned. Had he written articles betraying German military secrets? Whom did he intend to meet in Basel? Why were his papers not in order, and why was he carrying passport-size photographs of himself and his wife? Eventually it was apparent that Jacob would be sent to Berlin that night, accompanied by two Gestapo agents.7 Meanwhile, at the Lörrach police station, Richter congratulated Wesemann and Manz on a job well done, and revelled in the seizure of Jacob’s address book which contained his contacts in Germany, Czechoslovakia, France, and Switzerland, some of whom worked for the Reichswehr. Among Jacob’s personal papers it was discovered that he was to meet a former German officer at the tearoom of the Globus Department store in Basel the following Monday, 11 March. Richter ordered Wesemann to keep this appointment in order to expose Jacob’s informant. Wesemann sent a telegram to Frau Jacob, pretending to be her husband, and said that he had additional business to conduct in Zurich and so would remain in Switzerland several more days. At the appointed hour, Wesemann waited at the Globus tearoom, but no ex-German officer appeared. On Tuesday, 12 March, three men were arrested and jailed as suspects in Jacob’s network of informants: Dr. Robert M. W. Kempner, a Berlin lawyer, and his partner, Aschner; and the author, Walter Kiaulehn. According to Kempner, “Heydrich himself took part in the interrogation” be cause he wanted to have a look at these “shady barons.” 8 Also on 12 March Wesemann sent a second specious telegram to Jacob’s wife, giving the date of her husband’s return as Thursday, 14 March, and adding that he was sending her 200 French francs. Two days later he met Manz in Saarbrücken. Manz repeated how valuable Jacob’s address book had proven to be, as it included an employee of the Junker aircraft firm, an official of the German navy stationed at Wilhelmshaven, and a worker at a company that supplied technical equipment to the Reichswehr. He also told Wesemann that when going through Jacob’s things, a reference had been found concerning secret in-

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formation about Germany’s new submarine building program, and since this information was strictly confidential, Manz asked Wesemann to break into Jacob’s flat in order to retrieve these papers. Mindful of the Balleng fiasco, Wesemann flatly refused. As an alternative, and by way of providing himself with an alibi, Wesemann agreed to write a letter to Jacob, supposedly following up on their meeting in Basel, posted from London by the Hitzemeyers and thus indicating he had returned to England.9 On Saturday, 16 March, he wired his mistress in London, Lisa Stoll, asking whether she could immediately join him in Switzerland for a short holiday.10 Then, as he checked out of Hotel Gotthard that afternoon, he ostentatiously informed the desk clerk that he was on his way to Paris, whereas his real destination was Locarno, where he met Lisa the next day. From there they went to Ascona, and registered at the Pension Baumgartner as “Herr and Frau Wesemann.” Meanwhile, the first intimations of scandal over Jacob’s disappearance began to appear in the Paris press. Wesemann’s ex-wife, Ilse, noticed an article about the kidnapping on 18 March in Paris-Midi, and since she knew that Hans had intended to meet Jacob in Basel, she panicked and dashed off a letter to him in London, urging him to clear his name. “My Dear Little Chicken,” she pleaded, “Please put your Aryan (and therefore more intense) veil aside and act properly.” 11 The story was picked up by the Daily Herald of London on Tuesday, 19 March, when Swiss newspapers also began to cover it. Wesemann was relieved that his name was not mentioned in the account that he read while in Ascona, but took little comfort that he was alluded to as the person who last saw Jacob before his disappearance. He dared not entrust his secret to Lisa, yet he became preoccupied with the thought that he must leave the area as soon as possible. However, he had earlier asked the Hitzemeyer brothers to send him some clothes which were being forwarded from Basel. What he couldn’t have known was that his name had appeared in a Basel newspaper, and an alert postal official in Ascona realized the connection. Oblivious of this, he and Lisa embarked on a day of sightseeing to Italy on the 19th, leaving by train via Brissago to the town of Pallanza, and from there taking a boat to the Borromean Islands which Wesemann had visited in 1925 as a journalist in the company of delegates to the Locarno conference. They dined on spaghetti and red wine, and were serenaded by a guitar-playing street musician, but Wesemann could barely disguise his mounting apprehension. On 20 March the following description was circulated to all Swiss police stations:

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WANTED: HANS WESEMANN. HEIGHT ABOUT 1.75–1.80 METERS. HEAVY BUILT. DARK BROWN OR BLACK HAIR. HIGH FOREHEAD. DARK EYEBROWS AND BLUE EYES. LONG POINTED NOSE. NO MUSTACHE. SMALL MOUTH AND TEETH IN GOOD CONDITION. ROUND CHIN AND NO BEARD. FACE IS ROUND AND HEALTHILY COLORED. POSTURE IS ERECT. FRIENDLY OPEN COUNTENANCE. SPEAKS GERMAN, FRENCH, ENGLISH AND SPANISH. LAST SEEN WEARING BLUE SHIRT, BLACK TROUSERS AND SHOES, FELT HAT. SPECIAL CHARACTERISTICS: “JEWISH TYPE; HAND SOME.” WANTED FOR KIDNAPPING AND POSSIBLE ACCESSORY TO MUR DER.12

On their return journey, Wesemann’s anxiety was such that he stopped in Pallanza and sent a telegram to Richter urgently requesting permission to leave Switzerland at once.13 Nothing unusual transpired as they crossed the Italian-Swiss frontier on their way back to Ascona, but Wesemann’s relief lasted only momentarily. Four policemen, having been tipped off by the postal authorities, appeared and inquired whether he was indeed Dr. Wesemann, whereupon they asked him to accompany them to the local police station. Lisa Stoll went with him but remained mystified because his interrogation was conducted in Italian. Soon it became clear that he was being placed under arrest and would probably be imprisoned. “I will be all alone. Nobody will help me. My life has been destroyed, it is all over,” he reflected while trying to avoid being humiliated in front of Lisa.14 Later that evening he was taken by train from Locarno to Basel. Meanwhile, Jacob was in Berlin, held in a cell below Gestapo headquarters at 8 Prince Albrecht Strasse. During the first few days he was awakened by guards every twenty minutes and forced to stand flat against a wall while he was kicked in the shins. On 26 March he was moved to Columbia House where he remained until 3 May when he was relocated to Berlin’s Moabit prison.15 There he was interrogated by Patschowsky, Heydrich, and Nicolai, and was left in little doubt that he would be charged with a variety of treasonable offenses dating back to the mid-1920s. Only if he cooperated and revealed further details about his contacts in and outside of Germany was there any hope for mitigation of his sentence. Formal judicial proceedings against him began on 15 May with “pre-in vestigation procedures” during which he was questioned about details of his life, his journalistic activities, and the circumstances under which he had recently crossed into German territory. The Nazis seemed determined to settle for nothing less than a charge of treason.16 A milder but equally persistent interrogation of Wesemann began in Basel on Thursday morning, 21 March. He accounted for his movements

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from 8 March, including meeting with Jacob, Stoll, and Manz, but vehemently denied any connection with Jacob’s kidnapping, protesting, “Un der no circumstances would I take part in such an action. Jacob was a good colleague of mine, and I could never do anything like that to him.” 17 When asked whether he had sent telegrams to Frau Jacob, posing as her husband, on 10, 12, and 16 March, he claimed ignorance, even when shown the actual papers. While Wesemann was being questioned in the Prosecutor’s office in Basel, Ilse Wesemann became so distraught that she asked two friends to come to her flat at 2 rue Cournot to calm her fears and allay her suspicions. Ironically, one was Helmut von Gerlach, the former editor of Die Welt am Montag, who already mistrusted Wesemann. The other was her closest friend, Milly Zirker, who had been Gerlach’s secretary back in Berlin, and more recently worked in Paris for Arthur Wolff, formerly a German lawyer and communist leader. Neither were able to provide Ilse with any comfort, so before retiring that night, she confided to the 26–year-old German refugee who shared the flat with her, Hildegard Salomon, the names of her lawyers, Moutet and Blumel, explaining, “You never know what might happen to me.” 18 The next morning Hildegard heard a loud crash from Ilse’s bedroom and rushed in to find her lying on the floor, having taken an overdose of veronal. Hildegard telephoned Milly, who advised calling a doctor immediately. Ilse was taken first to the Necker Hospital, and later transferred to the Ravegeau clinic where her condition remained critical for several days. By 26 March she was able to answer queries from the French police, but continued to be thoroughly shaken. Hildegard Salomon told the police, “For several months Frau Wesemann had threatened to end her life. She felt she was merely taking up space on earth. She showed much pain over still being in love with her ex-husband.” 19 Salomon ventured that Ilse could not admit to herself that Hans had cultivated Jacob’s acquaintance solely in order to pump him for information, and eventually connive in his abduction. Two days after Wesemann was first interrogated in Basel, the Swiss Ambassador in Berlin delivered a formal protest to the German Foreign Ministry. Dated 23 March 1935, the brief letter stated that the Swiss had reason to believe that Berthold Jacob had been abducted by German agents from Swiss territory and forcibly brought to Germany. If true, the Swiss demanded his immediate release.20 On Monday, 25 March, the German Foreign Ministry responded, acknowledging that Berthold Salomon, otherwise known as Berthold Jacob, was indeed being detained.21 He was cited as having left Germany in

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1932 to establish himself in Strasbourg as a journalist who perpetuated hate and horror stories against the Reich. It was alleged that he had come to Basel to pursue such material, had slipped across the German frontier to meet a contact, and was apprehended by German police. There was no evidence that force had been involved. Meanwhile, the Assistant Prosecutor for Basel, Anton Roy Ganz, arrived in London on 24 March and undertook to make inquiries into Wesemann’s activities during the past two years. He began by requesting the cooperation and assistance of Inspector Arthur Reginald Minter of the Criminal Investigation Division (CID). However, in view of the political nature of the case, Minter thought it best to enlist someone from Special Branch, whereupon Inspector Frederick Jempson was assigned to work with Ganz. Ganz found that he had to stay in London much longer than he had anticipated, as one strand of the investigation criss-crossed with others, requiring more and more interviews with the wide circle of acquaintances Wesemann had developed as a refugee journalist and literary agent. The Basel prosecutor was convinced that Wesemann had been at the center of the Jacob kidnapping, but was able to amass precious few hard facts. Inadvertently, at this point, the intransigent attitude of the German authorities played into their hands. By denying any involvement in Jacob’s entrapment, they implicitly repudiated Wesemann, leaving him completely abandoned, and the Swiss did not hesitate to point this out to him. After several days of pondering his plight, Wesemann decided to make a partial confession during the night of 30–31 March, dressing it up as compassionate concern for Jacob’s possible fate, because although he had been assured by Manz that Jacob would never be executed, only sentenced to life imprisonment, Wesemann began to worry, knowing that crimes of treason were punishable by death in Hitler’s Germany. However, he did not want to alienate the Third Reich to such an extent that they would punish him in the future when he would need a German passport to travel to Latin America. His strategy, therefore, was to walk a tightrope, confessing enough to substantiate Swiss allegations against the Gestapo, while denying particulars, so as to retain a legitimate claim on the Gestapo’s good will. He made his confession in the prosecutor’s office on Saturday, 30 March. He began at 6:00 P.M. and continued talking until 1:30 A.M.22 He stressed the element of deception, rather than the use of force, in conveying Jacob by car into Germany. Prosecutor Haberli immediately drafted a report for the Swiss Foreign Ministry which in turn sent the information directly to its Embassy in

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Berlin where it was presented on 1 April to the German Foreign Ministry, providing them with a far more detailed account of what had happened. In addition, Wesemann’s confession was supplemented by ten days of Swiss investigations. Taken together, they reminded the Germans that Wesemann had been recruited by Dr. Walter Richter of the Gestapo, that he had cultivated Jacob’s confidence, and lured him to Basel on 9 March with the promise of a false passport. Manz was mentioned, as was Gustav Krause, both of whose birth dates were supplied, taken from their passports when they entered Switzerland in February and March. Jacob was characterized as a highly cautious refugee who never would have risked returning to Germany under his own volition. The diplomatic note further maintained that the German border guards at Well an Rhein had obviously anticipated the abduction because they had left the barrier up, facilitating the car’s entry into Germany. The Swiss concluded that they had every reason to believe Wesemann’s confession, and that it was now incumbent on the Germans to acknowledge their complicity in the operation.23 On 13 April the German Foreign Ministry responded, declining any official involvement. They were prepared to admit that Jacob may have been lured to Basel, hoping to secure a passport, and that he may have been tricked into driving with three other men into German territory, but they denied that Richter, Manz, and Krause ever had an official connection with any German agency or department of government. Only the name of Wesemann was known to them as a journalist of unsavory reputation who had been living abroad for several years, consorting with other anti-German refugees, and writing material hostile to the Reich.24 As for Jacob, the Ministry claimed that he had been campaigning against Germany for years, witness the outstanding treason charges against him for disclosing military secrets as far back as the 1920s. If he was so unscrupulous as to seek a passport under false pretenses, then he deserved any deception on the part of others. At all events, they were not prepared to release him because he would be required to stand trial in a German court. A fortnight later the Swiss replied in tones that crescendoed from conciliatory to indignant.25 They first recognized the importance of the acknowledgment made by the Germans that Jacob had been tricked into entering Germany. However, the raised barrier at the German border was not satisfactorily explained. Moreover, they found it unbelievable that no one at the German Foreign Ministry knew the names Manz and Krause, when both men were also in the car when Jacob was arrested. As for Richter, the Swiss were convinced that he worked for the Gestapo, so

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his identity and whereabouts should be easy for the German government to ascertain. With diplomatic stalemate impending, the Swiss announced their intention to invoke the Swiss-German Arbitration Treaty of 3 December 1921. It required each party to designate one judge, and a third member of the tribunal would be agreed upon by both states. Their decisions would be binding. Pointing out that it had been provided with no new evidence with which to pursue further inquiries of its own, Germany expressed regret that diplomatic discussions had failed, and that Switzerland had seen fit to invoke the Arbitration Treaty. Nonetheless, it signaled its willingness to proceed with the machinery of arbitration.26 The day before the Germans agreed to arbitration, Jacob was transferred from Columbia House to Moabit Prison where his treatment distinctly improved once the 1921 treaty was invoked. Furthermore, once he learned of the arbitration procedure, Jacob was greatly relieved, because he knew this would mean that his predicament would attract international attention and outside pressure on the German authorities. His fate now rested upon how thorough the Swiss would be in their inquiries, how forthcoming Wesemann was willing to be with further details, and how sensitive the Germans would turn out to be in the face of foreign scrutiny and unfavorable publicity.

NOTES 1. Kummer to Schneider, 23 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 126–128. 2. Interrogation report of Wesemann, 17 April 1935, ibid., p. 476. 3. Ibid. See also excerpts of the trial of Hans Wesemann, 6 May 1936, ibid., p. 863, subpages 22–23. 4. According to Gunther Deschner, Heydrich: The Pursuit of Total Power (London: Orbis, 1981) p. 128, the real name of Krause was Gustav Otto, a Gestapo agent from Lörrach. It has not been possible to confirm this. 5. This money had been given to Wesemann in Paris on 7 March by Manz who had telegraphed it from Basel. 6. The details covering 7–9 March 1935 which we relate here come mainly from Wesemann’s prison memoirs (1935–1936), excerpts of which survive in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Gerichtsarchiv, KK2, vols. XV-XVI, no. 80, p. 33 ff. 7. Jacob’s version of what happened may be found in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 45–49. See also: National Archives, microcopy T-120, roll 913, frames 384074–384090. 8. Gunther Deschner, Heydrich, p. 128. 9. Wesemann to Jacob, 16 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 276, subpage 6. This letter bore a postmark of 18 March from London.

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10. When Wesemann was in London the previous December he took as his mistress Lisa Stoll, whose father had been a newspaper editor in Alton, outside Hamburg, and a prominent Social Democrat. At that time she was a nanny for Mrs. Havinden of 20 Alvanley Gardens, NW6. 11. Ilse Wesemann to Hans Wesemann, 17 March 1935, ibid., p. 276, subpage 7. This letter is dated 17 March, but should have been dated 18 March, the day she read the first article about Jacob’s disappearance in Paris-Midi. 12. J. N. Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, 1935–1936 (Berlin: Peter Lang, 1972), p. 110. 13. Richter authorized Wesemann to leave Switzerland on 25 March, but by then it was too late. 14. Wesemann, prison memoirs, pp. 59–60. 15. Jacob’s account of his imprisonment emerged during Wesemann’s trial of 6–7 May 1936, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 863, subpages 45–48. 16. The formal judicial proceedings against Jacob are contained in a report which the Ministry of Justice sent to the Foreign Ministry, 25 June 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 913, frames 384074–384090. 17. Interrogation report of Wesemann, 21 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 46–50. 18. Report of Marcel Guillaume, 25 March 1935, ibid., pp. 617–630. 19. Ibid. 20. Swiss Embassy, Berlin, to German Foreign Ministry, 23 March 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 913, frame 384052. 21. Foreign Ministry to Swiss Embassy, 25 March 1935, ibid., frame 384053. 22. A brief summary of Wesemann’s confession of 30–31 March 1935 may be found in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 230–232. 23. Swiss Embassy, Berlin, to German Foreign Embassy, 1 April 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 913, frames 384054–384059. 24. Foreign Ministry to Swiss Embassy, 13 April 1935, ibid., frames 384060–384066. 25. Swiss Embassy, Berlin, to German Foreign Ministry, 27 April 1935, ibid., frames 384066–384070. 26. Foreign Ministry to Swiss Embassy, 4 May 1935, ibid., frames 384071–384073.

5

GESTAPO ACTIVITY ABROAD, 1933–1935 Generally unknown at the time of Jacob’s kidnapping, the Gestapo had amassed a card file of nearly 60,000 Germans in exile. Of these, some 25,000 had sought refuge in France, while many others were in Czechoslovakia, the Low Countries, Scandinavia, and Britain. In theory, the Gestapo was confined to dealing with political enemies within the Third Reich. However, the Secret Police also took jurisdiction over those anti-Nazis who had fled Germany. To this end, they forwarded funds to key German embassies abroad in order to enlist their aid in keeping track of these exiles. Thus, Jacob’s kidnapping was not unique, but only one in a series of dreadful operations undertaken by the Gestapo during the 1930s.1 The first time the world press told the story of Alfred and Fritz Rotter, brothers who were Jewish theater impresarios, was on 24 January 1933 when The Times of London reported their disappearance from Liechtenstein.2 They were accused of embezzling vast sums from the Rotter Trust which comprised thirty enterprises, including six theaters in Berlin, others in Dresden and Breslau, and a variety of touring companies. Unable to pay their actors, playwrights, and managers, they were said to have fled to Liechtenstein where they had taken out citizenship several years earlier as a contingency should they need to leave Germany suddenly. Anti-Semitic harassment also figured in their decision to flee. In April, while on holiday at a hotel near Vadus, they were forced off the road at an

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altitude of 4,500 feet by six young Nazis who tied up Fritz Rotter and put him in their car. They then chased Alfred, his wife Gertrude, and a traveling companion, Frau Wolf, until the couple either jumped or were pushed from the car to their deaths down a 90–foot gorge. Frau Wolf was badly injured, but survived the fall.3 As the getaway car with Fritz on board sped toward the Swiss frontier, he managed to jump out of the vehicle and escape, and the Germans were apprehended before they could cross into Switzerland. Given the opportunity to confess, they denied any intention to murder, claiming they had undertaken the kidnapping as a patriotic duty. In early April 1933 a former Nazi Party member on the staff of Ernst Röhm, Georg Emil Bell, was shot to death in the village of Durchholzen in the Austrian Tyrol.4 His companion, Major Hans Hell, the editor of the anti-fascist Catholic Centrist paper in Munich, Der Gerade Weg, was wounded in the thigh. Bell was an engineer, and had written several articles for Hell’s newspaper. On March 9 the Nazis raided the paper’s premises, but both men were able to escape into Austria. Bell was in disfavor with the Nazis because of testimony he gave in October 1932 in a libel case. He said under oath that Ernst Röhm had tipped him off about a secret hit squad operating from the Braun Haus, the Nazi headquarters in Munich. He was also reputed to know something about the origins of the Reichstag fire, so he was not wanted to be at liberty outside of Germany. As with Gerhart Seger, the Nazis tried to force Bell to return to Germany by imprisoning his wife and child, but when this did not work, they resorted to kidnapping him. Cornered in his hotel room, Bell refused to go with his abductors, whereupon they cut the telephone wires and shot him dead. One of the assailants, Paul Conrad, was apprehended by the Austrian police, but the others made for the German frontier where they crashed through the barrier on the Austrian side and easily passed the German one which was wide open. Major Hell recovered from his wound, but had no doubt that he and Bell had been the victims of a Gestapo plot. At the end of August 1933 The Times reported the kidnapping of a Czech named Weber from Swiss soil into Germany. He was seized near the village of Ransen in the canton of Schaffhausen, allegedly for smuggling sugar across frontiers. The Swiss authorities protested vehemently, saying, “This is but the latest of several cases of kidnapping or enticement on the German-Austrian and German-Swiss frontiers.” 5 With stories such as these becoming familiar among émigrés, they realized that they might well become targets in the Nazi’s sinister game of hit and run. Particularly shocking was the announcement in three Czech

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newspapers of a reward for bringing the head of Professor Theodor Lessing back to Germany.6 In the 1920s Lessing had been a Professor of philosophy at the Hanover Technische Hochschule where he gained notoriety when students protested in the streets after reading his criticism of President Paul Hindenburg in an article published in the Präger Tageblatt in September 1925. He was known for his anti-war sentiments, and worked openly for the cause of world Zionism. In February 1933 he and his wife left Germany to live in a secluded house in the Czech countryside near Marienbad. On the evening of 30 August, two or three men placed a ladder at the back of Lessing’s house and climbed to the second floor. When he entered his study and turned on the desk lamp, he was shot in the head through an open window. The assailants escaped, but it was later established that two of them—Max Rudolf Eckert and an accomplice named Dubner—were Sudetan Germans who were later granted immunity in Germany and were never prosecuted.7 Also implicated were Rudolf Zischka and Karl Hennl. Eckert, Zischka, and Hennl were found living in Munich after the killing, having been provided with false papers by the Gestapo which was presumed to have masterminded the affair.8 Several months later, on 8 November, a court in Pilsen, Czechoslovakia, sentenced a man by the name of Leonhard to serve four years in prison for kidnapping a German communist refugee, Lippert, while he was waiting for his wife at the border-crossing railway station of Schönbach.9 In 1934 there were fewer overt provocations by Gestapo agents outside Germany, perhaps because the Third Reich wanted to project a more orderly and peaceful image abroad after the ruthless extermination of Röhm, Schleicher, and the others at the end of June. However, in April, the émigré Reinhold Rau was attacked by four men in the northern Bohemian town of Katten, and The New York Times reported that “The Czecho slovak authorities say they have established that a member of the German political police was involved in the attack.” 10 Similarly, in October a Czech citizen by the name of Frodl was lured across the frontier at Grulich and detained for several months before being permitted to return to Czechoslovakia.11 Frodl later claimed that one of his kidnappers, Nedelke, was the same man who was sentenced to three years in prison by a court in Königgratz in March 1935 for a different abduction. Toward the end of December 1934 two men active in the Saar socialist youth movement, Ernst Braun and Heinrich Bartsch, were driving around the Saar distributing anti-Nazi pamphlets when they lost their way. They asked directions of a farmer who was later deemed to be

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pro-Nazi, and unwittingly found themselves on German territory where they were promptly arrested and imprisoned for five weeks without being formally charged, and then summarily released on condition that they broadcast a statement supporting the Saarland’s incorporation into the Reich.12 The pace of kidnappings and murders accelerated during the early months of 1935. On 17 January a member of the SS, Hans Hoffman, tried to kidnap a Czech by the name of Klug at the frontier town of Hatharinaberg.13 Then, a few days later, several members of the SS killed Rudolf Formis, a short-wave radio broadcaster targeted by the Party ever since his station in Munich blacked out just as it was supposed to transmit one of Hitler’s speeches. Formis claimed that the problem originated with his two superiors, both Nazi Party members, but he was nonetheless arrested and confined in a concentration camp until he contrived to escape to Czechoslovakia. There he joined the Black Front, supporters of Otto Strasser, and because of his expertise in radio transmission, was asked to set up a clandestine station beamed toward Germany. He did this on a frequency so close to a legitimate Berlin short-wave station that one couldn’t be sure when listening whether it was the real or the pirated signal. He concealed his transmitter in a large stuffed chair in his room at the Hotel Zahori near Stechowice, about 32 kilometers from Prague. A double agent within Strasser’s Black Front evidently betrayed the whereabouts of the transmitter to the Germans who demanded that the Czechs prosecute. They were only too glad to oblige, but when told to look at Zahori they assumed that the Germans meant the town located about 80 kilometers from Prague, and consequently they failed to find him. Meanwhile the Germans strongly denounced the station’s propaganda in the columns of the Völkischer Beobachter and elsewhere. When it became clear to the Gestapo that Formis was still at large, they decided to take matters into their own hands.14 Three agents were dispatched to Czechoslovakia: Alfred Naujocks (alias Hans Müller), Werner Goetsch (alias Gerhart Schubert), and Edith Karlsbach. Driving Müller’s Mercedes, they entered Czechoslovakia at Schneeberg on 10 January. Müller and Karlsbach posed as a married couple and checked into a Prague Hotel. After a few days of inquiry, they narrowed their area of search. On 14 January the three drove to Stechowice and began to haunt the environs, including the Hotel Zahori, where they eventually caught sight of Formis. Müller then returned to Prague and flew to Berlin for instructions. The following Wednesday, 23 January, Müller and Karlsbach registered as guests at the Zahori, while Schubert remained out of sight. In the

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dining room that evening they found Formis, and after dinner fell into conversation with him over coffee. At about 8:30 P.M. Müller excused himself, saying that he was not feeling very well. Karlsbach continued to engage Formis in conversation until about 10:00 P.M. Meanwhile, up in room number 6, located near Formis’s room number 4, Müller lowered a rope to Schubert who thereby entered the hotel unseen. Once Formis had retired to his room, they found a pretext for knocking on his door, and tried to overpower him with chloroform, but Formis had a gun and was able to wound Müller in the arm before being killed by Schubert. The three conspirators made their escape by intimidating a waiter with threats, and when they approached the Czech-German frontier at Schneeberg, they abandoned the Mercedes and crossed into Germany on foot. The next day Müller sent someone unknown to the local police to claim the car and return it to Germany. At the time of the murder, Müller was an SS Sturmbannführer and Schubert an SS Obersturmführer, both purportedly under direct orders from Heydrich, who condemned the bungling of this assignment as “straight out of a gangster film.” 15 As late as the 1960s the office of the state prosecutor in Hamburg was contemplating bringing murder charges against Alfred Naujocks and Werner Goetsch, regardless of the statute of limitations.16 On 27 April 1935 Josef Lampersberger was kidnapped in the border town of Eisenstein where he had gone to meet a relative from Bavaria. A former member of the Socialist Reichsbanner organization in Munich, he went into exile in Czechoslovakia when the Nazis took over, and worked as a waiter. The Gestapo must have been tipped off in advance, since two men dressed in civilian clothes were at the station and lost no time grabbing him and dragging him toward the German frontier. A Czech customs official heard his screams and tried to help him, but by the time he arrived at the scene the Germans warned him off because they had reached German soil. The battered Lampersberger held on desperately to some railings but was forced to let go by a Bavarian policeman who was on duty nearby.17 The Czech government launched a formal complaint and threatened once again to invoke the German-Czech Arbitration Treaty if Lampersberger was not released immediately. Once liberated, he refused to respond to Czech press inquiries about his treatment while in Germany, giving the impression that he had been freed on condition that he say nothing. He was also reluctant to remain in the limelight for fear that the Czechs might change their mind about providing him with sanctuary. This was one of the few instances when someone who had been abducted

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was returned by the Germans, perhaps because Lampersberger was considered too insignificant to risk stirring up further anti-Nazi feeling outside Germany. Richard Prost was not so lucky. In May 1935 he disappeared suddenly from Prague, only to surface several weeks later in a German prison where he had been sentenced by the Nazis to spend the next two and a half years.18 Equally mysterious were the motives behind the kidnapping of the German refugee sculptor Paul Gutzeit, who had taken up residence in the Dutch town of Hengelo, and had arranged for a French journalist to interview a German acquaintance of his. This was viewed as treasonable by the German authorities who therefore wished to get their hands on him.19 Kriminalpolizei Krutschwitz conceived a plan using an innocent third person to accomplish this. Approaching a Dutch citizen relaxing at a café in the border town of Gronau, he asked whether he would like to earn some extra money by assisting him with an investigation. The Dutchman, Klein Snuverink, agreed, and being a stonemason, he was acquainted with Gutzeit and could easily convince him of a possible job in Haarlem, his home town. They set out together on 4 February 1935, but as they neared the border, Snuverink veered and headed for the German frontier where the barrier was open, and Gutzeit was immediately arrested. Snuverink received RM100 for his services, but was arrested by the Dutch police when he returned to the Netherlands where he confessed all, and was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment. Meanwhile, the Dutch authorities lay in wait for Krutschwitz, who periodically visited the Netherlands, and in time apprehended him. Continual pressure was put on the Germans to release Gutzeit, and by May this yielded results, although the first attempt was unaccountably aborted. On the second try Gutzeit was taken from prison in Detmold to the Dutch frontier where he was met by the man who shared his house with him in Hengelo. To everyone’s utter astonishment, Gutzeit declared that he did not wish to return to the Netherlands, but intended, for reasons of his own, to remain in a German jail. A correspondent for The New York Times speculated why Gutzeit declined this chance to leave Germany. “There is strong suspicion here that Herr Gutzeit’s refusal was not made of his own free will and may be connected with the fact that his wife and two children are still in Germany.” 20 Word of these kidnappings, combined with the émigrés strong suspicions that Gestapo agents were being planted in their midst, were confirmed by cases like that of Kurt Buettner, who posed as a German émigré in Stockholm from the summer of 1933 to the summer of 1934. During

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this time he worked as secretary of the local German relief committee which looked after Social Democratic refugees. Unaccountably, in August 1934 he disappeared with 400 kroner of the committee’s funds as well as its files concerning its activities and membership rolls, only to surface a while later in Germany.21 The kidnapping of Berthold Jacob was clearly one piece in the pattern of Nazi surveillance of dissident émigrés who dared to speak against the National Socialist regime. Wesemann’s treachery fit all too neatly into this pattern, and was beginning to have far-reaching consequences not only on the continent but also in Great Britain.

NOTES 1. Christoph Graf, Politische Polizei zwischen Democratie und Diktatur (Berlin: Colloquium Verlag, 1983), pp. 286–288. 2. The Times, (London) 24 Jan. 1933, p. 9. See also: ibid., 8 Feb. 1933, p. 11. 3. Ibid. 6 April 1933, p. 13, and 7 April, p. 15. 4. The New York Times, 5 April 1933, p. 12; The Times, 6 April, p. 13; 12 April, p. 11; 13 April, p. 13; Daily Herald (London), 5 April 1933, p. 1; 6 April, p. 1. 5. The Times, 29 Aug. 1933, p. 9; 30 Aug., p. 9; 31 Aug., p. 10; 2 Sept., p. 9. 6. The Times, 1 Sept. 1933, p. 12; 2 Sept., p. 9; 4 Sept., p. 9. See also C. Brinson, The Strange Case of Dora Fabian and Mathilde Wurm (Bern: Peter Lang, 1997), p. 346. 7. A. C. Grzesinski, Inside Germany (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1939), p. 264; K. R. Grossman, Emigration: Die Geschichte der Hitler-Fluechtlinge, (Frankfurt: Europaische Verlagsanst, 1969), p. 93. 8. Grossman, Emigration, p. 83. 9. Ibid., p. 81. 10. The New York Times, 4 April 1934, p. 5. 11. Grossman, Emigration, p. 82. 12. Daily Herald, 21 Dec. 1934, p. 1; and The Times, 22 Dec. 1934, p. 9. See also: National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 2707, frames H032162–H032163. 13. Grossmann, Emigration, p. 81. 14. Contemporary accounts of the death of Formis are to be found in: The Times, 25 Jan. 1935, p. 13; 26 Jan., p. 11; 31 Jan., p. 13. One of the more recent accounts can be found in Grossman, Emigration, pp. 95–97. 15. Gunther Deschner, Heydrich: The Pursuit of Total Power (London: Orvis, 1981), pp. 129–130. See also: Heinz Höhne, The Order of the Death’s Head (New York: Coward-McCann, Inc., 1969), pp. 227–228. As an SD agent, Naujocks was one of those who perpetrated an alleged attack by Polish soldiers on the German radio transmitter at Gleiwitz, using dead concentration camp victims dressed in Polish army uniforms to justify the Nazi invasion of Poland on 1 September 1939. 16. Grossman, Emigration, pp. 95–97.

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17. The Times, 30 April 1935, p. 16; 2 May, p. 13; 4 May, p. 13; 10 May, p. 13; 13 May, p. 13; 4 June, p. 13. The New York Times, 12 May 1935, p. 27; 4 June, p. 18; 6 June, p. 4. See also: Grossman, Emigration, p. 81. 18. Grossman, Emigration, p. 82. 19. The New York Times, 12 May 1935, p. 27; 21 May, p. 12; 5 June, p. 4. The Times, 13 May 1935, p. 25; 20 May, p. 13; 22 May, p. 15; 5 June, p. 15. Daily Herald, 4 May 1935, pp. 4 and 10. See also: Grossman, Emigration, pp. 82–83. 20. The New York Times, 21 May 1935, p. 12. 21. Ibid., 17 Aug. 1934, p. 9.

6

THE SUSPICIOUS DEATHS OF DORA FABIAN AND MATHILDE WURM Sometime on Sunday, 31 March, or Monday, 1 April 1935, two German refugees died in their flat at 12 Great Ormond Street in London. Their bodies were not discovered until Thursday, 4 April. Each lay on her bed, Dora Fabian wearing pajamas, while Mathilde Wurm was fully clothed. Between them on a bedside table rested a cup, whose contents were later identified as veronal, a poison of choice in the 1930s for those who committed suicide.1 Coming so soon after the kidnapping of Berthold Jacob and the apprehension of Hans Wesemann, these deaths were inevitably connected, in the minds of many contemporaries, with the earlier events. On the day after the bodies were discovered, The Times of London stated that Dora Fabian was “associated with the work of Berthold Jakob, the German Jewish journalist who was kidnapped from Switzerland, and she assisted the Basel public prosecutor in his recent inquiries into the case in London.” 2 The next day’s Times added that the women’s flat had been broken into recently, but no valuables were taken. Instead, some of their personal papers were missing, leading observers to wonder whether these materials related to their efforts to help the imprisoned Berthold Jacob.3 The London News Chronicle was more explicit in its front page on 5 April. It mentioned the Swiss investigator by name, and confirmed that Dr. Anton Roy Ganz had interviewed the women concerning Wesemann and Jacob, although he was reluctant to posit a verdict of suicide. “When I

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saw them in London they were well and happy. There was no suggestion that they had become tired of life.” 4 By 8 April The Times had located Dora’s ex-husband in Paris, and Walter Fabian acknowledged the link between his wife and Wesemann. “She had written to him saying that she was watching Nazi agents, who themselves were watching German refugees, and stated that she had denounced Herr Wesemann.” 5 The Times article did not mention to whom she had “denounced” Wesemann, but left the distinct impression that the Gestapo might have been involved in silencing her. A neighbor and former Member of Parliament, Ellen Wilkinson, confirmed Walter Fabian’s impression that Dora had suspected Wesemann of being a Nazi agent and warned other members of the German refugee community to have nothing to do with him.6 With this information, a possible scenario developed whereby Wesemann was linked to the women’s deaths, even though he was at the time incarcerated in a Swiss prison. There was speculation that he had visited and corresponded with them while he was in Britain, and might have implied that they would suffer dire consequences if they did not cease their anti-Nazi activities. Given the spate of Gestapo kidnappings and murders that had taken place in neutral countries during 1933–1935, they could have been under no allusions as to his meaning. Yet Dr. Ganz, when interviewing Fabian in London on 25 March, was able to satisfy himself that no such contact had been made. Fabian admitted that she had known Wesemann’s former wife, Ilse, very well, but that she had never met Hans Wesemann, either in Germany or abroad. In fact, ever since Wolfgang Gans zu Putlitz, the German Consul-General and covert anti-Nazi, had alerted her to Wesemann’s probable connection with the Gestapo, she had decided to stay clear of him.7 The suicide of the two women was all the more puzzling because they were both early feminists with distinguished careers. Fabian was a Doctor of Philosophy in economics, and Wurm was a former Deputy in the Reichstag. Born in 1901, Dora Heinemann came by her interest in politics quite naturally. Her father, Hugo, was a distinguished lawyer, extremely active in the German Social Democratic Party, and she joined the party as a young girl. While at university from 1922–1928, she met and married Walter Fabian, a writer, teacher, and political activist; and in 1928, at the age of twenty-seven, received her doctorate. That same year saw the publication of her book, Arbeiterschaft und Kolonialpolitik. While working as a secretary and translator for Kurt Rosenfeld, the Prussian Minister of Justice, she met Mathilde Wurm, a Deputy in the Reichstag. She also assisted the German playwright and poet, Ernst Toller, (who was unknowingly to

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provide the means for her escape when she was arrested by the Gestapo in Germany in 1933). She was divorced in 1930, but maintained close contact with her former husband. In 1931, she turned her back on the Social Democrats whom she regarded as compromised by the intrigues and frustrations of the Weimar Republic, and associated herself with the more left-wing Socialist Workers Party (SAP). After being arrested, she was imprisoned in Berlin, and claimed to be the first socialist woman to be jailed under Adolf Hitler. Once she was released, she made up her mind to leave Germany. To do this without attracting attention, she used a large trunk, climbed into it and covered herself with papers and manuscripts belonging to Ernst Toller, and was conveyed across the Swiss frontier. Later she travelled to Czechoslovakia and became part of the growing community of German exiles in Prague. Finally, on 8 September 1933 she was admitted into England to begin her new life as a refugee journalist, translator, and consultant to politicians in both the British Labour Party and Independent Labour Party. Born in 1874, Mathilde Alder Wurm was twenty-seven years older than Dora. Her first career involved social work on behalf of young women. Early in her life she became active in socialist circles as an editor and writer, and in 1904 married Emanuel Wurm, who shared many of her journalistic interests, and who later was an Under-Secretary in the Ministry of Food in 1918–1919. Following his untimely death in 1920, she assumed his seat in the Reichstag, and retained it through all the vicissitudes of the Weimar Republic. With Hitler’s coming to power in 1933, she found that her parliamentary immunity was of limited value and duration, especially after the Reichstag granted the Nazis dictatorial powers in March. Then it was only a matter of time until all parties were outlawed, not just the Communists. Realizing this, she too decided to leave Germany, and crossed into Switzerland. Eight months later, on 3 February 1934, she arrived in London where she was readily granted a visitor’s visa, because she had a nephew, Arthur William Campbell, who lived at Park Road, Harlesden NW10. Meanwhile, Dora had been asked by Jennie Lee, a Labour MP, to live in her flat in Guilford Street while she was in America on a lecture tour, making it feasible for the two women, Dora and Matilde, to share this accommodation. At the time of their deaths, there was speculation as to whether the women could have stayed indefinitely in Britain as refugees. Both had applied for and received several extensions of their visas, but Fabian had not yet requested a renewal of hers beyond May 1935.8 Fenner Brockway, a British MP and secretary of the Independent Labour Party who concerned himself with exiled German socialists, was convinced by Dora

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that there were solid grounds for her fear of deportation. Likewise, Karl Korsch, a left-wing émigré writer and politician who became Dora’s lover, arrived at a similar conclusion based on learning that she had provided information about the German émigré community to the Swiss interrogator, Dr. Ganz. Having done this, she might be accused of inappropriate anti-Nazi activity which would jeopardize her residency permit. The Coroner, however, discounted the question of visas at the inquest held on 10 April because there was no evidence that His Majesty’s Government would have denied extensions to either of them. Nevertheless, by the end of March Fabian may still have felt that she was a target of the Nazis. Her last letter to her ex-husband dated 28 March was so cryptic that almost anything could be read into it. “I am in it to the neck, but some very interesting things are going to happen here.” This could be construed as referring to suicide, but Walter Fabian drew another inference when he said, “Dora was considerably in the way of the Nazis in England.” 9 Conceivably, he was here alluding to Dora’s research into the Jacob affair, and Wesemann’s role in it. However, there were several other unexplained events of a suspicious nature. Their flat had been ransacked in February 1934, but nothing valuable was taken, only some documents that Dora had been accumulating. Similarly, Fenner Brockway recalled that “A curious thing happened recently. . . . I sent her [Fabian] some translation work to do and she never received it. It may have been lost in the post, but I cannot quite understand it.” 10 Later there was testimony at the inquest by the women’s cleaning lady, Elizabeth Allworth, who recounted how she had been in the flat on Friday, 29 March, and had observed Dora talking with a German man who was “fair, very tall and with a small moustache,” 11 but to this day no one is certain who this person was.12 At the Coroner’s inquest on 10 April it became clear that Dora had been having an affair with Karl Korsch, a married man, and that he had been trying to end it. Korsch was a Doctor of Law and taught at the University of Jena until 1933 when he was dismissed. He sought refugee status in Britain on 18 February 1934, and was granted permission to stay in England until May 1935. Since many of the refugees had known each other in Germany, they tended to congregate in the same area of London. Accordingly, Korsch took a flat in Calthorpe Street, a few minutes walk from Jennie Lee’s flat on Guilford Street and the women’s flat on Great Ormond Street. Dora saw him almost daily, since at first she was his secretarial assistant, and eventually became his mistress. Their affair was interrupted in late 1934 when he left for Sweden and Denmark, although Dora managed to arrange a visit with him in Copenhagen in February

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1935. Once back in London in March 1935, Dora fully expected their affair to continue, and convinced Mathilde to consent to his renting their spare bedroom. However, when Korsch learned of Dora’s plan, he not only balked, he flatly refused to consider it. Whether he had already determined to break with her, or came to this conclusion when put under pressure, is not known. In any case, by way of explaining his refusal, he went to the Great Ormond Street flat on Saturday, 30 March, and told her that moving there would make for awkward appearances, in view of his still being married. He also reminded her that he had always been a loner, and continued to value his independence. According to later testimony, these reasons did not satisfy her, and she flew into a rage and tried to restrain him from leaving, all the while saying things she knew would wound him. Finally, he tore himself away.13 The next day, Sunday, 31 March, he penned a note to her. “You ought not to have done the last thing you did. Now something is broken which will take a long time to heal, if at all. . . . I shall never again live with you in the same house.” 14 He went on to say that he was determined to cut himself off from London acquaintances and foreign visitors, “and work for myself alone, as I have always done before. When I leave London it will most probably be to go to Sweden for a long time—perhaps years.” In a somewhat more mollifying tone he continued, “I thank you for the love and friendship which inwardly you have already uninterruptedly had for me. I am sorry that I could not be that to you without which I would mean nothing to you. Farewell and do not be more angry with me than you must.” This made it abundantly clear that he held out no hope for a recon ciliation. After sealing the envelope, Korsch took the letter around to the women’s flat himself. When no one answered the bell, he slipped it through the letterbox. Whether or not Dora was dead by then, the letter was never opened by her. For her part, Dora went out at about 4:00 P.M. on Sunday afternoon to purchase cigarettes from the nearby tobacconist who was the last person to see her alive. While on this errand she presumably posted a note to Korsch, written in a shorthand code they were in the habit of using for private communication. Korsch later said he did not receive this letter until the second post of Monday morning, 1 April. In part it read: “I have failed too much—worried you too much. I can find no way back—not for you, not for me, and not for life. Do not think that my death is in consequence of the last days. Had you not come to me I should not have lived. I have loved you too much. I am sorry. Goodbye. I am taking with me the only person for whom my life meant anything.” 15

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Neither of these letters were received before the tragedy took place. Dora may well have died before Korsch rang the bell on Sunday afternoon; and Korsch didn’t read his mail until too late on Monday, 1 April. Regardless, we are left with the mystery of why Mathilde Wurm seemingly agreed to die. Even before their deaths, many in the German refugee community in London suspected Karl Korsch of being something far worse than a faithless lover. They were convinced that he, as well as Wesemann, was working for the Gestapo. Fabian’s associates believed that she was devastated when she realized that Korsch fit the profile of a Nazi agent, and profoundly regretted confiding in him about anti-Nazi refugee activities. Her sense of having been betrayed politically exceeded even her distress at having been betrayed romantically. Anton Roy Ganz came to share this view. Visiting London in the latter half of April, he interrogated Korsch and found his answers concerning his actions at the time of the women’s deaths suspiciously vague. He also heeded rumors that were circulating about Korsch, based on his aloofness and his reluctance to reveal much about himself. There were also questions raised as to whether Korsch had actually delivered his letter to Dora in person, or had posted it. Why had he not taken her letter to him directly to the British authorities, rather than waiting a few days? And how did the text of her letter find its way into the Nazi press? These unresolved queries prompted the British Home Office to ask Korsch to leave Britain once his visitor’s permit expired in May 1935.16 Suggestive as these doubts may have been, there are problems connected with the idea that Korsch was a Gestapo agent. Primarily, there is nothing in the Home Office file which provides supporting evidence for this allegation, nor does Korsch’s name appear in any postwar accounts of former refugees working undercover for the Nazis. Furthermore, the German files opened after the Second World War contain nothing about his possible status as a double agent. Finally, in 1935 the Copenhagen police made extensive inquiries among refugees, and failed to find anything against him. During 1935–1936 it was quite natural for German exiles to be extremely apprehensive about Gestapo infiltration. Jacob’s kidnapping, followed by the inexplicable deaths of Dora Fabian and Mathilde Wurm caused everyone to scrutinize each other, wondering who might be another Wesemann: a refugee turned spy. Given this atmosphere of suspicion, it is nonetheless difficult to believe that it alone would have provided Mathilde Wurm with a reason to commit suicide. Therefore, we

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are inclined to look into the personal and private lives of the two women for a more logical explanation. Psychological depression of a general, if not clinical, kind afflicted many of the exiles from Nazi Germany. Forced to flee their homeland and survive precariously in a foreign country, they often became isolated, or had to pursue employment of an uncongenial character. Mathilde may have experienced this, since she had basically retreated from public life and had never been active in refugee organizations, nor had she tried to contact other émigrés besides Dora. By contrast, Fabian was well known in refugee circles, and had acquired friends and sponsors in high places. One of these was Lord Marley, an Opposition Whip in the House of Lords and a former Under-Secretary of War. As soon as he learned about her untimely death, he stated in the columns of the London News Chronicle: “Dr. Fabian used to do a great deal of my correspondence in regard to refugee matters and often came to the House of Lords to talk things over with me.” 17 The former M.P., Ellen Wilkinson, also said in the same article, “She was not poverty stricken. She had just made a contract to write a book, and this week she had several appointments to meet people.” In Paris, Fabian’s former husband testified that she had visited him the previous month when negotiating a French edition of her forthcoming book on women in Nazi Germany. Moreover, Fabian had been regularly employed since arriving in Britain: as a secretary for Lord Marley and as a translator for Fenner Brockway. Occasionally she had written articles for newspapers like Reynold’s Illustrated News. However, Dora was constantly short of funds, and probably began borrowing money from Mathilde without telling her.18 In February 1935 she withdrew from Mathilde’s account enough to cover a trip to Copenhagen and Paris. Later, at the inquest, it was confirmed that Wurm’s account had been overdrawn by more than £100 at the time of her death. Further light on this episode was shed by Heinz-Alex Nathan of 56 Parliament Hill, Lissenden Grove NW5 who went to Scotland Yard on 5 April to describe a conversation he had with Fabian shortly before her death. In it she confessed that she was in debt, and desperately needed to borrow £50. Nathan did not have the money in hand, but said he would try to find it for her, but hadn’t done so at the time of her death. In retrospect, it seems likely that Fabian was trying to replace the money she had taken from Mathilde’s account before she realized that it had been overdrawn. Fabian’s approach to Nathan for a loan was especially bizarre because by then Scotland Yard mistrusted him, just as they had Korsch, because

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the German community was convinced that both men acted suspiciously and should not have been granted permission to reside in Britain.19 As to what, in the end, drove the women to enter into a suicide pact, it must have been a sense of betrayal in their personal relationship. Dora inevitably had to admit to Mathilde that she had depleted her bank account. This confession may have caused the cancellation of a trip they had planned, since two packed valises were found intact in their bedroom. Dora also had finally to accept that her affair with Karl Korsch was over. Concerning the possibility that they were frightened into taking their own lives because they feared that they were on a Nazi “hit list,” this theory ig nores the fact that surrender was completely out of character for women of such vitality and courage. More likely, their temperaments would have fuelled a determination to defeat the Third Reich. Only indirectly can the women’s deaths be seen as implicating Hans Wesemann. This is not to exonerate him for the dreadful things he did while working for the Gestapo, but there is no evidence that the Nazis contrived to murder the women. All the indications point to suicide: there were no signs of disorder or struggle in the flat; the front bedroom where the women were found was locked from the inside and the key placed carefully on a shelf; and when their bodies were found, they were in bed with the covers pulled up, facing each other and holding hands. Mutual disappointment and despair may have temporarily overwhelmed them, because only a sense of having come to the end of their personal relationship would have induced them to end their lives together. NOTES 1. The most thorough coverage of the Fabian-Wurm case can be found in Charmian Brinson, The Strange Case of Dora Fabian and Mathilde Wurm (Bern: Peter Lang, 1997). See also: Brinson, “The Strange Case of Dora Fabian and Mathilde Wurm,” German Life and Letters, XLV (Oct. 1992), pp. 323–344. 2. The Times (London), 5 April 1935, p. 16. 3. Ibid., 6 April 1935, p. 7. 4. News Chronicle (London), 5 April 1935, p. 1. 5. The Times, 8 April 1935, p. 11. 6. News Chronicle, 5 April 1935, p. 7. 7. Ganz’s report of 26 March 1935 is in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 254–275. Putlitz is alluded to in a report by F. J. Jempson and A. Canning of the Metropolitan Police to the Home Office, 4 April 1935, H.O. file W-2024. 8. Contemporary speculations about the renewal of visas can be found in: The Times, 8 April, p. 11; ibid., 11 April, p. 9; News Chronicle, 5 April, p.1; and ibid., 6 April, p. 13. Quotations are from the last of these sources. 9. The Times, 8 April 1935, p. 11. and News Chronicle, 6 April 1935, p. 13.

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10. News Chronicle, 5 April 1935, p. 6. 11. Ibid., 11 April 1935, p. 7. 12. It is quite possible that the German-speaking man was the Swiss investigator, Ganz. 13. For contemporary coverage of the inquest, see The Times, 11 April 1935, p. 9; and the News Chronicle, 11 April, p. 9. 14. News Chronicle, ibid. 15. Ibid. 16. Wesemann file, Home Office, W-2024. Ganz’s report to Special Branch is mentioned in the letter from Jempson and Canning to the Home Office, 26 April 1935. 17. News Chronicle, 5 April 1935, p. 1. 18. Concerning Fabian’s and Wurm’s financial difficulties and Fabians’ forging checks from Wurm’s bank account, see Brinson, Strange Case. 19. For further information as to why Heinz-Alex Nathan incurred the mistrust of the German refugee community in Britain, see Brinson, Strange Case, pp. 353–357. See also: Jempson and Canning to Home Office, 26 April 1935, in H.O. file W-2024; and New Scotland Yard to Home Office, 29 April 1935.

7

REFUGEE REACTION TO THE JACOB KIDNAPPING During the spring of 1935 the story of the kidnapping of Berthold Jacob by Hans Wesemann found its way into newspapers from Switzerland to London. In Paris, there were articles featuring it in Le Petit Journal and Le Temps on 23 March; L’Indépendant on 27 March; L’Ami du Peuple on 31 March; La Reforme on 4 April; Lu on 6 April; Vu on 10 April; and Votre Destin on 11 April. The principal German-language paper in Paris, the Pariser Tageblatt, took a particular interest in events as they unfolded, since Wesemann and his ex-wife Ilse, as well as Jacob, were well known among its editors and staff writers. The Pariser Tageblatt began as an exile voice in December 1933, with Georg Bernhard as editor, and Kurt Caro as his assistant.1 Both men already had distinguished reputations as editors of left-wing newspapers in Germany during the 1920s: Bernhard with the Vossiche Zeitung, and Caro with the Berliner Volkszeitung. Both were active in the newly formed Deutsche Demokratische Partei, and Bernhard served for a time as a representative in the Reichstag. As so many others had decided to do, they both went into exile soon after the Nazis assumed power, and by 1935 they were at the center of refugee activity in Paris. Bernhard and Caro had known Wesemann in the mid-to-late 1920s. Like Wesemann, Bernhard had been a reporter covering the League of Nations in Geneva in 1924–1925. Replying to the French and Swiss police investigators who questioned him soon after the news of Wesemann’s ar-

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rest broke in the European press, Bernhard said, “At the time I knew Wesemann, he was very far left, politically speaking.” 2 However, neither man thought Wesemann capable of organizing a kidnapping. Still, Bernhard acknowledged that he had not seen Wesemann since 1930, and Caro granted that he had never known Wesemann well. On the other hand, both men admitted to having seen a fair amount of his former wife, Ilse, since coming to Paris. In an ironic twist of fate, Victor Schiff found himself in Paris covering the Jacob kidnapping for the Daily Herald of London. As we have already seen, he had formed a very low opinion of Wesemann in the 1920s when, as an editor of Vorwärts, he had been sent to Geneva to report on Wesemann’s behavior and work habits. Schiff also knew Ilse Wesemann, since she had worked for the same newspaper. At that time he professed no interest in keeping up with Hans, and when in the autumn of 1933 they both attended the same press reception in London, Schiff avoided any contact with him. Not surprisingly, Schiff believed that Wesemann was quite capable of luring Jacob to Basel, and he made every effort to see that the readers of the Daily Herald were kept well informed about developments in the case.3 Helmut Gerlach, the former editor-in-chief of Die Welt am Montag, was also in Paris at the time of the kidnapping. He had known Wesemann during the five years that Wesemann was a regular correspondent for this Berlin newspaper. Gerlach’s comment to the investigators was, “He’s a man who would do anything for money.” 4 Among the refugees in Paris, Gerlach was one of the most senior. Born in 1866, he had been a deputy in the Reichstag between 1903–1906, and was a founder the German Democratic Party in 1918. He edited Die Welt am Montag for the incredibly long term of 1901–1930.5 Since emigrating to France, he had been a regular contributor to both major refugee newspapers, Die Aktion and the Pariser Tageblatt. He had also come to know Ilse Wesemann, who for a short time acted as his secretary. Gerlach was certain that she had nothing to do with the kidnapping, and testified, “Frau Wesemann is a convinced, almost fa natical, socialist and anti-Fascist.” 6 He further stated, “Wesemann has in recent times visited his ex-wife quite regularly. In my opinion, Frau Wesemann is sexually dependent upon her ex-husband. That would explain her relationship to him and perhaps also her suicide attempt.” 7 Gerlach also informed the investigating police that Wesemann had told him about submitting articles to Reynolds’ Illustrated News (London) under the name of “Dr. Schroeder.” When Georg Bernhard heard this name he was reminded of a letter which he had received from Alfred Kerr, the former drama critic of the Berliner Tageblatt, who told him that he had been

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approached by a “Dr. Schroeder” who said he wanted to get together to discuss matters of mutual interest. Kerr did not agree to meet him, but noticed the return address he had given was 36 rue Cardinet, only a few blocks away from Bernhard’s lodgings. Kerr advised Bernhard to be wary of this man, in case he was maintaining surveillance on German refugees, but Bernhard dismissed his warning until the press linked Wesemann to the name of Schroeder.8 Once this connection became known, newspapers as far away as New York City rushed into print. The New York Times told its readers that a man calling himself Rudolf Schroeder was actually Hans Wesemann “in the guise of a German liberal.” Particularly noteworthy was the fact that this man “had won the confidence of British liberals and German refu gees.” 9 In London, the former editor of The Times, Henry Wickham Steed, only realized that Wesemann and Schroeder were the same person when he saw the kidnapper’s photograph in the newspaper. Another prominent refugee in Paris whom the police interviewed was Rudolf Breitscheid. Born in Köln in 1874, he became the leader in the Reichstag of the German Social Democratic Party in 1931. His acquaintance with Wesemann dated from the mid-1920s when both of them had been in Geneva observing the League of Nations. They again saw each other at a conference in Oxford in 1933. In Paris, Breitscheid became a confidant of Ilse Wesemann, who admitted to him that Hans was quite a “rogue” and always in need of money. For this reason she eventually stopped inquiring into his affairs because she feared learning more than she wanted to know.10 When Hans pressured her to agree to an annulment of their marriage, she turned to Breitscheid for advice. Following Jacob’s abduction, Ilse told him that she wanted to help Else Jacob by sending money and offering her the use of her Paris flat. Most poignantly, it was to Breitscheid that she addressed her suicide note, indicating that she could no longer cope. The Paris police wanted to talk to Wilhelm Rodominsky because he had known Wesemann in Berlin in 1919, and consequently was the person Jacob contacted in the summer of 1934 when he needed to know whether or not to trust Wesemann. By this time Rodominsky had become convinced that Wesemann was an opportunist, and therefore urged Jacob to avoid him. Jacob, however, was inclined to give Wesemann the benefit of the doubt because he had been reimbursed for several articles that Wesemann had placed in the British press.11 Of the German exiles in Paris, Willi Münzenberg was the man who Wesemann had tried the hardest to meet. Münzenberg was the founder of the publishing house, Editions du Carrefour, and chief of propaganda for

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the Communist International of Western Europe. In the summer of 1934 Wesemann approached the secretary of the Committee to Aid the Victims of Fascism in London, and requested an introduction to Münzenberg. When this was denied, he tried to gain access to him through one of the committee’s unpaid volunteers. Isabelle Brown later told Münzenberg that she was highly suspicious of Wesemann’s offer to supply the Committee with information about concentration camps in Germany, and therefore had issued a warning to committee members not to have anything to do with him.12 Münzenberg’s secretary, Liane Klein, recalled two occasions when Hans and Ilse Wesemann had come to Münzenberg’s office, hoping to meet him, but he was out both times. However, he included a letter which Wesemann had written to him from London in October 1934 in a book he published about Nazi operatives throughout Europe. Worthy Comrade, I received your address from my wife. Unfortunately there was not time for me to speak with you personally when I was last in Paris. Therefore I must contact you in this way. I have been here in England for over a year and have been working for a whole set of English newspapers, especially concerned with the left wing of the middle class and trade unions. I also maintain good contacts with the various pacifist and humanitarian organisations. There are many opportunities for journalistic and literary activities, if one can find a suitable collaborator. Please write and let me know in what way we might possibly cooperate together. I can place here various articles, news releases and book reviews in a wide range of newspapers representing different opinions. Alternatively I could supply you with an abundance of English material. I hope to hear from you soon and remain, with socialist greeting, Hans Wesemann13

Wesemann was suspected of being the subject of an anonymous letter sent to Leopold Schwarzschild from Northern France in September 1934. Schwarzchild had been the editor of two Ullstein newspapers prior to the Nazi era, Das Tagebuch and Montag Morgen, and as an exile in Paris he launched another, Das Neue Tagebuch. The letter was unsigned, but claimed to be from “a member of the Gestapo who is nevertheless a friend.” 14 For Schwarzschild, this warning abut a covert Nazi agent operating among German refugees described Wesemann. The Swiss inquiry into Wesemann’s role in Jacob’s kidnapping did not confine itself to Paris. In Basel itself the police questioned a former friend of Wesemann who had known him in 1929 in Berlin, when he was a struggling actor and Wesemann was writing for Die Welt am Montag. Werner Hausmann now worked for Radio Basel, but recalled the days when he

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and Wesemann often went to the theater and concerts, but never talked about politics. Hausmann admitted, however, that Wesemann had always been too quick to judge others, and was overly cynical. Since the two had long since drifted apart, Hausmann expressed surprise at receiving a postcard from Wesemann, mailed from Basel on 16 March 1935, suggesting that they get together. He had no idea why Wesemann had suddenly contacted him, and did not realize any connection with the Jacob kidnapping.15 German exiles were welcome in Britain as long as they kept a low profile and refrained from political activity. Accordingly, a significant number of anti-Nazis entered the country between 1933 and 1934. They often maintained close touch with each other, choosing to live in the same neighborhood. Following the Jacob kidnapping and the deaths of Dora Fabian and Mathilde Wurm, there was a palpable feeling of fear among them that Nazis had succeeded in infiltrating their community. Wesemann was a prime suspect because he was known to have misled many of them. For example, Erna Hartmann, a former secretary to the Reichstag deputy, Toni Sender, gave Wesemann several articles for possible publication, but had never heard anything from him, which led her to believe that he had probably been paid for the material, but had pocketed the money.16 Otto Lehmann-Russbüldt’s experience was similar. In one instance he sued Wesemann in order to recover an article which he had undertaken to get published, but never did. On another occasion, Lehmann-Russbüldt’s article was, in fact, published, but the proceeds were never turned over to him.17 He knew personally about the disillusion felt by a woman who had come to Britain in 1934 with an introduction to Wesemann on account of his interest in the plight of women in German concentration camps. She had entrusted letters from a former inmate of one of these camps to him, but when he was asked for their return, Wesemann claimed to have lost them.18 Cumulatively, Wesemann’s reliability came more and more to be questioned. Both Lehmann-Russbüldt and Rodominsky had tried in vain to warn Jacob not to become involved with him. Similarly, Max Sievers of Brussels tried to caution Jacob in the summer of 1934, but to no avail. When instances of treachery or disloyalty were uncovered, people increasingly blamed Wesemann, even when no name was provided. This was the case with Gottfried Reinhold Treviranus, the former Minister of Communications in the Brüning government of the early 1930s. Interviewed by assistant prosecutor Ganz in London, Treviranus admitted that he had not recognized Wesemann from photographs in the newspapers until Dr. Brüning issued a warning from America to fellow refugees in

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Britain that there was a potentially dangerous ex-Social Democrat among them; someone infiltrating émigré circles and collecting letters, transcripts, and other documents. Brüning didn’t mention a name, but Treviranus suspected that the person alluded to was Wesemann.19 Often Wesemann was viewed as a member of an extended spy ring. M. J. Creswell of the British Foreign Office drew up a memorandum to Sir John Simon, the Foreign Secretary, after reviewing reports from Switzerland. In it he noted that Ilse Wesemann “is said to attribute the principal responsibility for the kidnapping to a Miss Raye of London, and to a German couple by the name of Hitzemeyer, relations of a prominent Nazi leader in Elberfeld also resident in London.” 20 British newspapers also speculated about this London connection. The Daily Herald (London) of 25 March 1935 reported that Swiss and French investigators were inclined to believe that Wesemann had targeted Jacob, and perhaps other possible victims, from a base in London where he worked with “a woman” and “a German refugee couple” whose names were not given. 21 As a matter of fact, the woman cited as “Miss Raye” was actually Rita Kaye, the fiancée of Robin de Gruchy who had allowed Wesemann to use her address as a mail drop for material sent to him from Germany. Wesemann must have told his ex-wife, Ilse, about this arrangement, and she had drawn the wrong conclusion, assuming that Kaye was involved in Nazi plots. Coincidentally, her mistaken assumption helped her to distance blame from Hans. In addition, Wesemann never did receive any communications at the Kaye address.22 As for the Hitzemeyers, it is clear in retrospect that they had nothing directly to do with “a prominent Nazi leader . . . in London.” They merely did personal favors for Wesemann, such as posting letters for him from London when he was out of the country, and forwarding his clothes to Switzerland. The British authorities nonetheless distrusted them because they sold clothing to military bases, and this offered them the opportunity to undermine army morale and distribute Nazi literature. Even prior to Jacob’s kidnapping, many believed that Wesemann had done far more heinous deeds than exploiting fellow journalists and writers. They thought it quite likely that he had been involved in the entrapment of an unnamed German labor leader from Copenhagen who was eventually identified as Carl Balleng.23 Similarly, Max Braun was convinced that Wesemann had intended to kidnap Jacob in November 1934 when he visited the Saar, but had been foiled by the discovery of police at the frontier.24 Braun was equally sure that he himself was one of Wesemann’s intended targets, otherwise why had he accompanied Braun on speaking engagements, and taken such an interest in the speed, safety, and ruggedness

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of his car? Ernst Toller also imagined that Wesemann was after him. As we have seen, he had met Wesemann after World War I and the German Revolution of 1918–1919, although he could not recall the time that Wesemann had visited him in prison. Toller dismissed the suggestion that he had ever known Wesemann with the comment “You would not believe i t . . . but that man Wesemann once dedicated a play to me out of admiration. He also praised me and my work in a newspaper article.” 25 Toller was in Switzerland when the Nazis came to power, and with the help of Dora Fabian and his secretary, was able to recover his books, plays, and poems from Germany. In September 1933 he came to London to take part in the Reichstag Fire Counter Trial, and began a fierce campaign directed against the Nazi regime. His effectiveness with British audiences was such that it prompted an “unofficial” complaint by the German Embassy. Wolfgang Ganz zu Putlitz was sent by Ambassador Leopold von Hoesch to the British Foreign Office in January 1935 to complain about Toller to C. W. Baxter.26 Unknown at the time, Putlitz was a closet anti-Nazi who shared classified German information with Sir Robert Vansittart, the Foreign Office’s Permanent Under-Secretary. Putlitz told Baxter that many Germans both in Britain and in the Third Reich were distressed by the way that Toller was tarnishing the image of the New Germany and damaging Anglo-German relations. The German Embassy therefore wished him expelled as an undesirable immigrant. Baxter pointed out in the first place that Toller’s speeches were rarely reported in the British press. Furthermore, since Toller had already been deprived of German citizenship, the British could not deport him even if they were inclined, which they were not. If Toller committed a breach of British law, the situation would be different, but at the moment the British authorities could not interfere in the legitimate activities of refugees, even when these included criticism of foreign powers. During 1934 Toller received three mysterious letters. The first came to him in London, and proposed a meeting at which the sender and Toller could discuss topics of common interest. It was signed merely with the initials “H. W.” Since Toller could not imagine who this person was, he ig nored the invitation. Some time later he received a second letter while he was in Italy, this time from “Schroeder,” who urged him to come to south ern France to exchange ideas which could be to their mutual advantage. Again, Toller ignored the offer. A third and similar letter was dismissed. However, several months later Toller came across Wesemann’s signature, and realized that it matched the handwriting in the three letters. This discovery troubled him greatly, because it suggested that Wesemann was trying to entrap him just as he had Werner Kohlberg, about whom

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Toller lamented “This man is not a Jew [or] a socialist, and yet he is in the hands of the secret police” as a result of Wesemann’s perfidy. 27 He shared his growing apprehension with Marie (“Missy”) Meloney, the American editor of the New York Herald Tribune Magazine. I suppose you have read about the terrible danger of kidnapping I escaped. . . . Wesemann had written three letters to me. He tried therein to lure me to France, Switzerland and to London for rendezvous. But the letters seemed rather suspicious to me and I did not answer. When I saw in the “Pariser Tageblatt” the hand writing of Wesemann I recognized it as that of the three letters I had got. I really got a shock in thinking that I also could now sit in a Berlin prison like poor Jakob.28

In spite of these suspicions, there is no evidence that Wesemann intended to kidnap either Max Braun or Ernst Toller, but it is clear that Wesemann was indeed a master at using people for his own purposes. If, as was the case in November 1934, he was given the task of surveying the situation in the Saar, he used Berthold Jacob and others as conduits to Max Braun; and if he wished to penetrate key anti-Nazi refugee circles, he was not against pursuing this aim by figuratively stalking Ernst Toller. The fallout from Jacob’s disappearance spread well beyond the Gestapo’s expectations. Large numbers within the various émigré communities panicked and began to mistrust one another, assuming that among their ranks were numerous Nazi spies. Georg Bernhard became convinced that Helmut Klotz and Adolf Philippsborn were unreliable members of the German refugee community in Paris,29 and Victor Schiff named Dr. Ihlefeld as a possible Nazi agent in France.30 The British Foreign Office identified a friend of Wesemann, the Communist Georg Schwarz, as someone working under cover for the German Propaganda Ministry in Switzerland,31 and Friedrich Wilhelm Foerster, a former professor of philosophy at the University of Munich, admitted to the French and Swiss interviewers that he would continue to mistrust Helmut Klotz even though he had been abused by the Nazis and had lost his citizenship.32 Ernst Toller was confident that Alex Nathan, formerly associated with the Ullstein publishing conglomerate, had become a spy.33 The case of Heinz-Alex Nathan is especially instructive because it demonstrates how an anti-Nazi émigré came to be so mistrusted by his fellow refugees in London.34 Born in Berlin-Schoeneberg on 1 February 1906, his career path matched almost precisely that of Hans Wesemann. As a journalist in the Weimar Republic, he wrote primarily for newspapers published by the Ullstein press where he was sports editor of Die Welt am Montag. He went into exile shortly after the Reichstag fire of February

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1933, fearing that his journalistic reputation predisposed the Nazis against him. Switzerland gave him sanctuary, and for the next six months he existed as best he could amidst alien surroundings. One day in August 1933 while in Zurich, he fell into conversation with the German writer, Werner von der Schulenburg, and it soon became apparent that he was being recruited into a small circle of conservative anti-Nazis operating in and outside of Germany. Those in Germany were looking for ways to distribute information abroad which would alert the world to the spreading Nazi menace, and those abroad were meant to disseminate this message. Schulenburg urged Nathan to take up residence in England and become an anti-Nazi agent there. Nathan tentatively agreed, provided that he could establish himself in London with a secure and viable post as a refugee journalist. This agreed, Nathan was somewhat stunned to hear Schulenburg say, “I’m working for Fritz von Bose, the press attaché of Vice-Chancellor von Papen.” 35 With the help of relatives living in Britain, Nathan was put in touch with Claud Cockburn, the fiery leftist editor of an often outlandish but remarkably well-informed newspaper, the Week. He persuaded Cockburn that he would have uninterrupted access to private but highly reliable German sources of information which he could use, provided its source was disguised. Soon Nathan was receiving high-grade material about every three days, posted to him at a cover address in London by one of two cooperating Lufthansa pilots. Through Cockburn and others, he was introduced to a number of influential British and foreign journalists who gathered at the political salon of former Times editor, Henry Wickham Steed. In January 1934, Schulenburg sent a wire saying that von Bose wanted to confer with him in Germany. A false passport was provided, and Nathan flew to Hamburg, where he was met by someone who introduced himself as “Inspector Frank.” Together they went directly to von Bose’s room at the Atlantic Hotel where Nathan learned that von Bose was a passionate anti-Nazi who ran a clandestine information service whose mission was to destroy Hitler and the National Socialists. Nathan was assured that von Papen knew nothing of this covert operation, and was, in von Bose’s words, “a vain thoroughbred who could only view events through blinders.” He also went so far as to predict that von Papen’s days in the cabinet were numbered.36 It was then revealed that the real reason for luring Nathan to Germany was to have him collect some important documents in Berlin. Nathan was told to travel alone to the capital where von Bose would meet him at the Savoy Hotel in a few days. When von Bose arrived, he had with him a se-

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cret file whose contents Nathan was instructed to memorize. It contained detailed information concerning the activities of Himmler, Göring, and Heydrich, and Nathan had to admit that he had never before heard of Heydrich. The following day Nathan returned to London to resume his journalistic duties, and his life continued much as before. However, on 17 June 1934, von Papen delivered a momentous speech in Marburg that was unusually critical of Nazi excesses. Cockburn suspected that von Papen’s remarks might ignite some fireworks in Germany, so he asked Nathan to return to Berlin to cover the story. Press credentials were secured through Norman Ewer, the foreign editor of the Daily Herald, and Nathan alerted von Bose to his arrival on 29 June. They agreed to meet that day for lunch at the Pelzer Grill, but when Nathan appeared he was told by von Bose’s colleague, Fritz von Tschirschky, that von Bose had been called out of town, and would lunch with him the next day. On 30 June, Nathan returned to the Pelzer Grill, but again, von Bose failed to make an appearance. Thinking that perhaps he might have been delayed, Nathan went to von Papen’s office, only to find the building cordoned off by police. Hours later he learned that von Bose had been shot in the back five times, one of the many victims of the Night of the Long Knives. In retrospect, Nathan realized that von Bose’s assistant, the so-called “Inspector Frank” who had met him in Hamburg, was probably someone on von Papen’s staff named Bochow who worked for the Gestapo, and had betrayed many in the Vice-Chancellor’s office. Von Papen himself narrowly escaped the fate of the others. Nathan stayed in Berlin several more days observing the aftermath of the bloody purge, but friends urged him to get out of Germany before he was accused of being von Bose’s accomplice. Back in London Nathan found that he was suddenly regarded by his fellow refugees as a person of dubious character and reliability. Apparently, during his absence, the German Embassy had intimated to the British authorities that he was untrustworthy, and this word spread quickly through the German community.37 Kidnappings and murders involving German refugees escalated markedly during the years 1933–1935, yet the abduction of Berthold Jacob captured the attention of a wider public and received far more press coverage than most. Perhaps this was due to Jacob’s reputation as a fearless émigré journalist who had exposed German violations of the Versailles Treaty, but more likely it was the treachery inflicted by one refugee upon another. Inevitably, this phenomenon raised the possibility that there was a Gestapo network operating throughout Europe, since the incidents had occurred in Denmark, Great Britain, France, and Switzerland. In London,

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the House of Commons was not slow to react to this possibility. Although the Swiss assistant professor who had been assigned to make inquiries in Britain, Anton Roy Ganz, was scheduled to return to Basel on 27 March, members of Parliament asked him to stay in the country while questions were raised in the House of Commons.38 On 28 March, Dingle Foot, member from Dundee, asked the Home Secretary if the Metropolitan Police were cooperating in Ganz’s investigation, and Sir John Gilmour replied that they were.39 Then, on 1 April, Sir Charles Cayzer asked the Home Secretary whether it was true that the Jacob kidnapping had been the undertaking of an anti-refugee organization with branches in Paris and London? Was the Home Secretary prepared to expel certain individuals? In reply, Sir John said that he could not expand upon what he had told Mr. Foot a few days before. Subsequently, on 3 April, 8 April, 15 April, and 2 May, Sir Charles repeated the same questions, and each time the Home Office declined to comment further, indicating that whatever inferences might be drawn from the Jacob/ Wesemann case, His Majesty’s Government was not prepared to discuss the matter.40 Staunch anti-Fascists both in and outside of Parliament tried to highlight the situation by publicizing Jacob’s plight. On Tuesday, 26 March, a telegram was sent to the British Foreign Secretary, Sir John Simon, while he was in Berlin on an official visit. It was signed by members of the British branch of the Committee for the Relief of Victims of German Fascism: Lord Marley, D. N. Pritt, W. M. Thompson, and Dingle Foot. While in Germany, would it be possible to discuss the matter of safety of refugees, with special reference to the case of Berthold Jacob, kidnapped while in Switzerland, and now, we understand, in prison in Germany? Case causes great anxiety among refugees.41

By the summer of 1935 it seemed an appropriate time, in the eyes of the International Committee for the Relief of Victims of German Fascism, to stage another Counter Trial like the one they conducted regarding the Reichstag fire. Since that had proven such a resounding propaganda triumph, it seemed a particularly propitious time to appoint another commission and call witnesses, evaluate documents, and publish material about the disappearance and murder of German exiles. Spearheading this idea in England were leading members of the British committee: its President, Lord Marley; its Secretary, Dorothy Woodman; and others such as Kingsley Martin, Victor Gollancz, Sidney Bernstein, Ellen Wilkinson, D. N. Pritt, and Ivor Montagu. Montagu volunteered to recruit six to eight people, two or three of whom would be lawyers.42 Not surprisingly,

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when the German Embassy came into possession of a copy of Montagu’s letter describing the Committee’s plans, they were upset. Bismarck pointed out to the German Foreign Ministry that Montagu was not only the younger brother of the renowned Jewish activist, Lord Swaythling, but he had repeatedly flaunted his anti-Nazi feelings by travelling several times to Germany in search of political prisoners as well.43 A Commission of Inquiry was chosen, with Hector Hughes, a barrister affiliated with the Labour Party, as President. Those who agreed to serve as members were: Maude Royden, former suffragette and evangelical preacher; Seymour Cocks, Labour M.P.; the author, J. B. Priestley; Ada Elizabeth Chesterton, author, social reformer, and foreign correspondent; the 5th Earl Listowel, philosopher and Labour member in the House of Lords; and D. N. Pritt, the well-known Marxist barrister and active member of the Reichstag Fire Counter Trial. Proceedings were scheduled to begin at 10:00 A.M. on 10 July at Caxton Hall, Westminster, and would probably continue until 11 or 12 July. Under investigation were the alleged Nazi murders of: Theodor Lessing (Czechoslovakia); Gertrude and Alfred Rotter (Liechtenstein); George Bell (Austria); Walter Kaehn (Saarland); Rudolf Formis (Czechoslovakia). Also to be examined were the kidnappings of Kohlmann (Denmark); Webber (Switzerland); Ernst Braun and Heinrich Bartsch (Saarland); Käthe and Carl Balleng (Denmark); Josef Lampersberger (Czechoslovakia); and Berthold Jacob (Switzerland). To assist with their inquiries and give evidence, provided they were allowed into the country, were, among others: Ada Lessing, Else Jacob, Max Braun, and Otto Strasser. As for the British authorities, they were far from delighted by the prospect of another Commission of Inquiry. The Foreign Office learned of the impending trial on 6 July, only four days before it was due to convene, and it was MI5 that broke the news to them. Distinctly annoyed, Ralph Wigram, head of the Central Department, recalled the Reichstag Fire Counter Trial and objected to a repeat performance. “That trial caused the greatest annoyance in Germany; and even during Sir J. Simon’s visit, Hitler spoke about it with bitterness. We can’t stop our own people making fools of themselves in any way they like—but I really don’t see why five aliens should be allowed to land here to damage British interests abroad.” 44 Wigram’s colleague, Orme Sargent, shared these sentiments, but noted that Max Braun had already entered the country, but perhaps could be asked to leave before he could testify. Then, if all the other refugee witnesses were denied permission to land in Britain, it might force the commissioners to cancel their proceedings.45 The Permanent Under-

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Secretary of the Foreign Office, Sir Robert Vansittart, concurred. “I really do not see why we should lend ourselves to the manoeuvres of so notorious a person as Willi Münzenberg.” 46 In his eyes, the Commission was just another pretext for the Comintern to fish in troubled diplomatic waters. Moreover, it was thought that a former German Communist, Otto Katz, was the liaison between Münzenberg and the British sponsors of the Commission, namely Ellen Wilkinson, Seymour Cocks, and D. N. Pritt. The Foreign Office therefore urged the Cabinet to act promptly, and instruct the Home Office to exclude certain aliens planning to attend the Commission. On the day the Commission assembled, 10 July, the Cabinet met, but decided to do nothing. Vansittart was irate, and vented his irritation to his Foreign Office colleagues: “I feel it will lead to a good deal of trouble. It is one of the cases where home politics have overridden foreign policy.” 47 Three members of the Commission—Royden, Cocks, and Pritt—were unable to attend the meeting on 10 July but the President assured those present that “this inquiry is undertaken in the hope that by throwing the clear searchlight of truth upon these unfortunate happenings, the wrongs inflicted by them may be rectified, and the recurrence of them may be prevented.” 48 Ada Lessing, Max Braun, and Else Jacob each gave testimony, with Else describing in detail how her husband had been lured to Switzerland by Wesemann. She noted in passing that Wesemann had probably been involved in an attempt to kidnap Max Braun as well. Summarizing the Commission’s impact, Bismarck told the German Foreign Ministry that the outcome could have been far worse.49 He related that the hearing had lasted only one day, and was then postponed indefinitely. Its proceedings had received relatively little press coverage, although the News Chronicle (London), the Manchester Guardian, and the Daily Herald (London) had carried short articles based on an Associated Press report. He acknowledged, however, that the kidnapping of Berthold Jacob was a major cause celèbre which would not go away, regardless of the failure of the Commission of Inquiry to galvanize public opinion. He was also aware that formal arbitration proceedings between Germany and Switzerland were pending, and would attract a great deal of adverse publicity, acutely embarrassing to the Third Reich.

NOTES 1. For background on the Pariser Tageblatt, see W. F. Peterson, The Berlin Liberal Press in Exile: A History of the Pariser Tageblatt-Pariser Tageszeitung, 1933–1940 (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1987).

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2. The police interrogations of Bernhard and Caro can be found in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 246–252 and 617–630. For biographical background on Bernhard and Caro, see Peterson, Berlin Liberal Press and M. Eksteins, Limits of Reason: The German Democratic Press and the Collapse of the Weimar Democracy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1975). 3. The police interrogations of Schiff are in the Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 246–252 and 617–630. 4. Ibid., p. 253. 5. See Peterson, Berlin Liberal Press, pp. 51–59. 6. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 253. 7. Ilse Wesemann attempted to commit suicide after learning that Hans was being accused of kidnapping Berthold Jacob. 8. Bernhard to the Basel Prosecutor’s office, 8 April 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 399. 9. New York Times, 27 March 1935, p. 6. 10. Police interrogations, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 617–630. 11. Ibid., pp. 679–682. 12. Brown to Münzenberg, 1 April 1935, ibid., pp. 617–630. 13. A photograph of Wesemann’s original letter of 15 Oct. 1934 to Münzenberg, written in German, appeared in Das Braune Netz (Paris: Editions du Carrefour, 1935). The book was translated into English and published as The Brown Network (New York: Knight Publications, 1936), p. 21. 14. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 617–630. 15. Ibid., p. 122. See also the transcript of Wesemann’s trial of 5–6 May 1936, p. 863. 16. Ibid., p. 273. 17. Lehmann-Russbüldt to Basel police, 24 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 137–138. 18. Among Wesemann’s personal effects there was one prison letter written on toilet paper. 19. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, pp. 266–267. 20. Memorandum of M. J. Creswell, 6 April 1935, Public Record Office, F.O. 371/18879, C2866, ff. 66–76. 21. Daily Herald (London), 25 March 1935, p. 11. 22. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 268. 23. Arbeit-Zeitung (Basel), 25 March 1935, p. 1. 24. Ibid., p. 5. 25. Daily Herald, 10 May 1935, p. 17. 26. Memorandum of C. W. Baxter, 11 Jan. 1935, PRO, F.O. 371/18874, C671, ff. 6–11. 27. Report of an interview between Toller and Dr. Lützelschwab, 23 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 153a. See Chapter 3 concerning the reason for Kohlberg’s arrest. 28. Toller to M. M. Meloney, 18 and 28 March, and 27 April 1935; Marie M. Maloney Papers, Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Columbia University. Permission to quote kindly granted by Columbia University. 29. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 245. 30. Ibid., p. 248.

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31. Memorandum of M. J. Creswell, 6 April 1935, PRO, F.O. 371/18879, C2866, ff. 66–76. 32. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 249. 33. Ibid., p. 253a. 34. Information about Heinz-Alex Nathan can be found in unpublished material at the Institut für Zeitgeschichte in Munich. See especially his “Nach 25 Jahren,” commemorating the 1934 purges in 1959, and a questionnaire which Nathan completed in 1969. Evidence of his having been deprived of his German citizenship is in the files at the Bundesarchiv III, Berlin/Zehlendorf, formerly known as the Berlin Document Center. 35. Ibid. Fritz von Bose’s formal name was Herbert von Bose. 36. Ibid. 37. The Germans deprived Nathan of his citizenship in 1939, but this did not spare him from being interned by the British when war broke out. After the war he became head of the history department at King’s College, Worcester. 38. Ganz reported to his superior that the British police had been rather reserved in their assistance, due in part to the political nature of the case. Ganz to Häberli, 27 March 1935, Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 172. 39. Parliamentary Debates, Commons, CCXCIX (28 March 1935), 2069–2070. 40. Ibid., CCC (1 April 1935), 21–22; CCC (3 April 1935), 362–363; CCC (8 April 1935), 803; CCC (15 April 1935). 1602; CCCI (2 May 1935), 534–535. 41. Daily Herald, 28 March 1935, p. 3. 42. A copy of Montagu’s letter, dated 26 June 1935, fell into the hands of the German Embassy in London. See National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 2707, frames HO32149–H032150. 43. Bismarck to the German Foreign Ministry, 8 July 1935, ibid., HO32147–H032148. 44. Minute by Wigram, 9 July 1935, PRO, F.O. 371/18878, C5354, f. 166. 45. Ibid. 46. Ibid. 47. Minute by Vansittart, 10 July 1935, ibid., p. 167. 48. Report by the Associated Press, 10 July 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 2707, frames HO32159–H032163. 49. Bismarck to Foreign Ministry, 11 July 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 2707, frames HO32155–H032163.

8

SETTLEMENT BY ARBITRATION? MAY-SEPTEMBER 1935 Resolution by arbitration involved risks for all the parties touched by the Jacob kidnapping. The Germans were reluctant, but eventually agreed, and so informed the Swiss on 4 May 1935. Under the terms of the Arbitration Treaty of 1921, each party could appoint one arbitrator, and a third person would be chosen by mutual consent. This process took time, during which the Swiss continued to interrogate Wesemann, hoping to elicit further compromising details of official German involvement. They also instigated an elaborate investigation in London and Paris as well as in Basel, trying to piece together facts that they could use to confront Wesemann and prompt him to disclose more. The Germans adopted a strategy of denial, arguing for example that Wesemann, Manz, and Krause were freelance operatives seeking to curry favor with the Nazi regime. They planned to disclaim Richter’s actions as well, pretending that he was a kind of rogue Gestapo officer who had acted on his own authority without informing his superiors. The German Foreign Ministry disavowed any knowledge of the kidnapping scheme, and scurried to shelter its diplomatic representatives in London. On 26 July both countries signed an agreement to abide by the arbitration procedures and specified how testimony would be taken. The arbitrators and their staffs were to be given ready access to all possible witnesses, including Wesemann and Jacob. The Swiss agreed to transfer

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Wesemann temporarily onto German soil to be interrogated, provided he was under Swiss protection and returned to Basel afterwards. On the following day the Swiss submitted the first formal statement of charges to the German government, along with supporting documents. The main body of the account ran to more than forty pages, with twenty-three supporting appendices.1 To say the least, the Germans reacted as if they had been hit by a small bombshell. In their wildest dreams they could not have imagined that the Swiss could have collected such detailed information implicating German agencies and individuals. In one stroke their claim of detachment from the kidnapping evaporated, and they were faced with the unpalatable task of assembling material for a counter-statement in one month’s time. The Swiss report of 27 July began with a brief sketch of Wesemann’s life from his parental home in Nienburg through his journalistic career of the 1920s, to his status as an émigré in Britain during 1933–1935. It then went on to summarize Wesemann’s reasons for approaching the German Embassy in London during the spring of 1934, his initial conversations with Rüter, and his later contacts with Marschall von Bieberstein. It pointed out that Richter’s willingness to meet Wesemann in Berlin was conveyed through the German Foreign Ministry to the Embassy in London, and that Marschall von Bieberstein personally discussed the matter with Wesemann. Here as elsewhere the Swiss were anxious to prove that governmental departments in addition to the Gestapo were implicated in Wesemann’s activities. The report then went on to demonstrate how Wesemann secured himself against possible arrest in Germany by insisting upon a Gestapo safe conduct as well as a German Embassy letter authorizing his trip to Berlin in August 1934. Werner Hitzemeyer was mentioned as a person who knew of Wesemann’s intended trip to Berlin, and who would alert the German Embassy in London if Wesemann failed to return in a reasonable length of time. The Swiss went out of their way to note that they had interviewed Hitzemeyer, and his testimony had confirmed Wesemann’s intentions to meet with a Gestapo representative. Wesemann’s brief stay in Berlin was described, including the particulars of the hotel room where he initially conferred with Richter and his secretary, Dora Güttler. Further proof of Wesemann’s contact with Richter before the kidnapping of Jacob came from Anna Marie Elizabeth Günther, a German domestic servant employed on the Raps Kyns estate near Horsham in Sussex. She told the Swiss investigator, Dr. Ganz, that her brother, Wilhelm Günther, lived next door to a Dr. Walter Richter in Berlin-Spandau.

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In October 1934 Dr. Richter had entrusted her with £21 to give to Wesemann in a sealed letter. The Swiss indictment related how Wesemann had first met Hans Joachim Manz in Trier on an occasion when Richter was present, and detailed his travels through the Saarland, including the side trip to Strasbourg to meet Berthold Jacob. Also listed were the names and addresses of individuals that Wesemann used to contact Richter: Dora Güttler at Eichwalde, Dahmestrasse 5, Berlin; post office box 3468 in Berlin for the Gestapo; Herta Kühn, Kaiserstrasse 17, Berlin-Spandau, which was also Walter Richter’s personal address; Herbert Ahrens, post restant, Berlin, SW61; Erich Reimer, post restant, Berlin, W9; Alfred Maz, Karlstrasse 32 in Freiburg; and Else Ewers, Belchenstrasse 8, in Lörrach where Jacob was initially apprehended. The report also mentioned Wesemann’s penchant for using assumed names such as “Dr. Schroeder” when dealing with people in Britain like Wickham Steed. The Swiss admitted that they knew little about Wesemann’s activities as a Gestapo agent in England, but they held him responsible for Werner Kohlberg’s arrest. Also included was a description of Wesemann’s trip to Copenhagen in January 1935 for the ostensible purpose of conferring with former German Social Democrats including Karl Balleng. They granted that they had been persuaded that Wesemann had lured Balleng onto German territory where he was imprisoned by the Gestapo. Reference was also made to the theft of documents from the Balleng’s flat on 2 February 1935, presumably the work of Hans Manz who was in Copenhagen at the time. The Swiss also uncovered a second valid passport which had been issued to Wesemann and deposited in the North German Lloyds Bank, 11A Regent Street, London, further suggesting the extent to which the Foreign Ministry had cooperated with the Gestapo. Coincidentally, this discovery revealed the method by which Manz and Richter had been able to transfer funds from Germany to Wesemann in London. The report contained a full description of Dr. Walter Richter, as elicited from Wesemann: about 175 centimeters tall; thin; broad shoulders; long neck; somewhat receding hairline; thick black hair parted almost in the middle; dark brown eyes; black bushy eyebrows; piercing stare; dark-rimmed glasses; articulate and somewhat ironic of speech; erect, calm, and controlled body movements; and well-dressed in dark colors. Also mentioned were his date of birth and home address in Spandau as well as the location of two Gestapo offices he had used in Berlin, one in Columbia House, and the other on Dorotheenstrasse. His cover name was “Dr. Becker,” and his im -

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mediate superior in the Gestapo was Günther Patschowsky, who reported directly to Himmler. Similar biographical details were provided for Hans Joachim Manz, including his place and date of birth, First World War naval service, and current Berlin address. Since the Swiss had to rely upon Wesemann for their knowledge about Manz, they may have been told a series of falsehoods in order to obscure his identity. Possibly less reliable was the information about the mock chauffeur, Gustav Krause, because it came from the immigration form he filed when entering Switzerland in March 1935. Among the twenty-three supplementary documents presented by the Swiss was an extract from the prosecutor’s interrogation of Wesemann of 25 April 1935; Ganz’s interview with Werner Hitzemeyer in Chatham which showed how well he knew Wesemann from having lived with him for about a year in Mrs. Baskerville’s house; and a list of Wesemann’s travels from March 1933 to January 1935, based on British immigration records. There were also several excerpts from an interrogation dated 11 July 1935 in which Wesemann described his early contacts with the German Embassy in London, and their expressed desire that he be under the jurisdiction of the Gestapo. The point was made that it was not only the Embassy in London but also the Foreign Ministry in Berlin that fully sanctioned this arrangement. Wesemann told how Richter had sent money via the Embassy in London, and how they sometimes corresponded via the German diplomatic pouch. He named the German diplomats with whom he had dealt in London and Paris: Ernst Rüter, Adolf Marschall von Bieberstein, Harald Bielfeld, Hilger Van Scherpenberg, and Theodor Auer, and enumerated the assignments he had undertaken for the Gestapo concerning refugee activities in Britain and on the Continent. He gave details about his contacts with British trade unionists and his relationship with Lisa Stoll, mentioning her current Berlin address in case the arbitrators wanted to question her. The reaction of the Germans after studying Wesemann’s confession was that he had admitted too much, but he had not pleaded guilty. Wesemann himself was outraged by the way the German authorities were prepared to throw him to the Swiss wolves, yet he knew that some day he might wish to ingratiate himself with the Nazi regime again. Accordingly, he explained his ambivalence to Rüter in a letter written from prison in Switzerland on 12 July 1935: I expected and still expect no help nor any declaration of responsibility on Germany’s part. I completely understand the government’s political dilemma, and I have therefore done everything to spare the German interests . . . but I insist that no further attacks be made against me and that henceforth a silent respect be ac-

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corded me, to compensate me for all my sacrifices. I am prepared to suffer much as long as my honor remains intact. Otherwise I cannot guarantee anything. What that means should be clear enough.2

The implied threat here probably alluded to the memoirs that he was writing and would publish if the Germans utterly deserted him.3 He blamed the Gestapo for ordering him to do things that he had never dreamed of when he agreed to work for them. The Germans’ initial response to the extensive Swiss charges was to pore over them in a frantic search for factual errors or discrepancies. In less than a week the Gestapo drew up an itemized rebuttal in a memorandum sent to the Foreign Ministry.4 It accused Wesemann of exaggerating his contacts with them and denied that there was any use of the diplomatic bag. Moreover, the alleged telephone calls which Richter and Patschowsky made to Heydrich and Himmler following the arrest of Jacob never took place, although there was no denial of Richter’s involvement. The comment was made that “at least that vile traitor, Jacob, was taken out of action for a while during a most critical time, and his contacts have been entirely disrupted.” 5 If asked by the arbitrators, Richter’s participation as well as the two non-Gestapo officers Joachim Manz and Gustav Krause would have to be admitted. However, as both had since disappeared, they could be presumed beyond the arbitrator’s jurisdiction. The Gestapo made it clear that once the Swiss were finished with Wesemann, they planned to get their hands on him. Over all, they strongly urged that all arbitration proceedings be suspended, even if it meant conceding German involvement in Jacob’s arrest and returning him to Swiss jurisdiction. On 3 August State Secretary von Bülow drafted a report to his superior, Foreign Minister von Neurath, admitting that the Swiss statement “proved beyond a doubt that a German official, namely Dr. Richter of the Gestapo, was deeply involved in Jacob’s kidnapping.” 6 He added succinctly, “Wesemann has given away almost everything about his connec tion with German offices and about Jacob’s kidnapping.” He therefore advised von Neurath of the necessity to convince Hitler to end the Jacob affair, even though he had previously favored going to arbitration. This opinion had been based on two false assumptions: the Swiss would not be able to amass very much evidence, and Wesemann would not confess in such detail. To proceed would almost certainly subject government personnel and agencies, including the Gestapo and the Foreign Ministry, to close scrutiny and public interrogation, and would erode confidence in the new regime. Because the case involved third parties beyond Germany and Switzerland, namely Denmark and England, the inquiry would undoubtedly be embarrassing to Germany’s reputation abroad.

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Von Bülow then suggested the following tactics, assuming that the Swiss were willing to abandon arbitration. The Germans should seize the initiative and reprimand the Swiss for concealing information in May 1935 when the Germans had requested help in conducting their own internal inquiry. Had they been more forthcoming, it would not have been necessary to resort to formal arbitration, and the Jacob case could have been resolved through normal diplomatic channels, avoiding any interrogation of German officials. Next, the Germans must admit that Richter was involved, although he had acted without either authorization from his superiors or the cooperation of any government offices. “We need to point out that only recently had it been determined that Richter was the culprit, and that we are prepared to dismiss him from the Gestapo. We are willing to return Jacob to Switzerland and offer a formal apology as well as assurances that such an incident will not recur.” 7 On 4 August von Neurath wrote an urgent letter to Hans Lammers at the Reich Chancery, enclosing the reports from the Gestapo and von Bülow. “From all the enclosed it is clear that it is time to wind up the embarrassing Jacob affair. . . . I ask you to bring this up with the Führer immediately and to ask him to approve the termination of the case.” 8 Three days later Lammers responded from Berchtesgaden, saying that he had conferred with Hitler, but the Führer could not reach a decision until he had spoken with von Bülow personally, sometime after the middle of the month.9 Frustrated, the Foreign Ministry directed a lengthy dispatch to Ambassador von Hoesch in London, bringing him up to date on the Swiss memorandum of 27 July.10 He was warned that the arbitrators would take testimony from three members of the Embassy: Marschall von Bieberstein, Bielfeld, and Van Scherpenberg. It was suggested that each man write to von Bülow describing his dealings with Wesemann. Von Hoesch was given reassurance that the Embassy in London would not be implicated in the kidnapping. Responding to von Bülow’s request for information from those in his ministry, Alexander Fuehr indicated that he had spoken with Wesemann at the Foreign Ministry when Richter failed to keep his first appointment to meet Wesemann in his hotel room in Berlin.11 On that occasion he had reassured Wesemann that Richter definitely intended to meet him, but that there had been a misunderstanding about the date agreed upon. Fuehr commented upon the fact that Wesemann seemed extremely nervous and wary of a Gestapo trap, but Fuehr made it clear that the arrangements could be relied upon. He specified that he had not spoken with Wesemann since August 1934, but admitted that if he were questioned under oath, he

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would have to acknowledge that he had seen Wesemann’s reports to the Embassy in London concerning the activities of German refugees. On 13 August von Bülow again raised the Jacob case with von Neurath, reiterating his plea that it be settled as soon as possible without resort to arbitration. He cited the Gestapo’s concern that the confidentiality of its operations abroad might be compromised if certain individuals were cross-examined by the arbitrators. Furthermore, the Swiss intended to broaden the scope of the inquiry by alleging Gestapo involvement in the cases of Werner Kohlberg and Karl Balleng, a tactic which would confirm Gestapo presence outside of Germany. Disheartened, von Bülow lamented that unfortunately “the Swiss presentation on these points is es sentially correct.” 12 Von Neurath replied to von Bülow on 19 August, “Since the Führer could not reach a decision in the Jacob affair, there is no alternative than to reply, as best we can, to the Swiss statement and then let matters run their course.” 13 Overridden, von Bülow was faced with preparing a formal German response to the extensive Swiss claims. Before he discussed the Jacob case with Prof. Wilhelm Grimm, the Foreign Ministry’s legal consultant, he contacted the Gestapo in order to arrange a meeting with Kriminalrat Erich Graes and Richter to review the details once again.14 He also studied the reports from his two junior colleagues in London, Marschall von Bieberstein and Bielfeld. Marschall von Bieberstein acknowledged that he had supervised Wesemann following Rüter’s departure from London in the early summer of 1934.15 They first met on 14 May 1934 when Wesemann introduced himself as “Dr. Schräder,” and after this, they saw each other on a regular basis. Wesemann delivered information about the activities of German refugees in London, the machinations of the Committee for the Relief of Victims of German Fascism, and the efforts of the international labor movement to influence events in the Saarland. He also reported émigré attempts to expose in the press German rearmament plans. Marschall von Bieberstein related the circumstances which induced Wesemann to cooperate with the Nazi regime, noting that in the early months he only asked to be paid enough to cover his expenses. He denied having shown Wesemann copies of letters from the Gestapo, and claimed that the Embassy had never received any correspondence bearing Richter’s signature. The Embassy did, however, receive a safe conduct for Wesemann dated 18 July 1934. No meetings had taken place during August and September because he had been on holiday, and their next meeting was held in October. He denied that Wesemann had ever received money from Richter via the London Embassy, and insisted that the diplo-

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matic pouch had not been used for any correspondence. When Wesemann had suddenly announced his intention to join his fiancée in Venezuela in January 1935 and had asked for money for a visa, he admitted giving him Embassy funds, but declined his request for a letter of introduction to the German Embassy in Caracas. He then made a curious assertion: neither Hoesch nor Bismarck knew of Wesemann’s activities. This seems preposterous, since Bismarck wrote the cover letters for many of Wesemann’s reports in the spring and autumn of 1934. Could he have meant that Hoesch and Bismarck were unaware of Wesemann’s recruitment by the Gestapo? This, too, seems improbable, since it was Bismarck who first suggested to the Foreign Ministry that the Gestapo was the more appropriate agency to receive Wesemann’s information. He concluded his report with a list of payments made to Wesemann from 4 May 1934 to 11 January 1935 totaling £157, including £40 for a Venezuelan visa. Harald Bielfeld’s report was brief because he had dealt with Wesemann for only the two months that Marschall von Bieberstein was on leave.16 As head of the Consular Department, he had authorized the expense money for Wesemann to attend the Trades Union Congress conference at Weymouth in early September 1934, and had forwarded Wesemann’s report concerning refugees to the German Foreign Ministry. He freely admitted that he had known of Wesemann’s connection with the Gestapo, since it was at their request that he had issued a new passport to Wesemann in September 1934. A third report from Hilger Van Scherpenberg contained very little, since he had had practically no contact with Wesemann other than having chatted with him for about four minutes before referring him to Bielfeld.17 Van Scherpenberg was particularly outraged to find that he and Wesemann had been linked in a book about Nazi agents, recently published in Paris, The Brown Network. After considering these reports, von Bülow drafted the official German response to the Swiss memorandum of 27 July. The assumption behind his statement was that it was common for refugees to offer information to their embassies abroad as Wesemann had, and therefore the Gestapo was not guilty of soliciting an agent. Wesemann and Richter were merely patriots wanting to enhance their reputations with the Third Reich.18 Von Bülow forwarded his draft of the response to von Neurath on 24 August, stressing that it was the product of intense consultation with the Ministry of Justice, the Gestapo, and Prof. Grimm.19 The entire document put a bold face on events.20 It declared that the plan to kidnap Jacob was hatched by Wesemann, Manz, and Krause, none of whom were Gestapo officers. They then informed Richter of their intentions, and he en-

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dorsed them. The man who had accompanied Richter along the proposed escape route, Adolf Reiss, did not realize that an abduction was being contemplated. Admittedly, Jacob was lured to Basel under false pretenses, promised a false passport, and taken by car onto German territory. Likewise, Richter was in Basel on 27–28 February and 8 March, but was not directly involved in the kidnapping; nor were other German officials such as Heydrich or Himmler told about the kidnapping scheme in advance. Richter’s zeal was acknowledged as extreme, and he would be penalized accordingly. Wesemann’s meetings with Richter and various other German bureaucrats had nothing to do with Jacob, but were merely information sessions about refugees who might pose a threat to the Third Reich. And if proof were needed that the Foreign Ministry was not involved in directing Wesemann’s activities, it was evidenced by Wesemann’s transfer from the jurisdiction of the Embassy to the Gestapo. Von Bülow and von Neurath were well aware that the German counterstatement was feeble, but it was the best they could concoct in view of Hitler’s refusal to act. Therefore, what happened next took them utterly by surprise. The Swiss Foreign Minister, Guiseppi Motta, suggested to Germany’s diplomatic representative in Bern, Ernst von Weizsäcker, the possibility of discontinuing arbitration provided that Jacob was released. Von Bülow instantly recognized in this gesture the chance for Germany to save face, and urged von Neurath to bring pressure on Lammers and the Führer to accept the offer.21 He also reminded them that in all probability the Swiss were preparing their response to the German statement of 24 August, and if they could be pre-empted, there would be no further need to supply them with potentially incriminating evidence. The Swiss motives for offering such an olive branch were complex. They clearly relished the idea of exposing Nazi treachery, especially since the Jacob kidnapping was not the first breach of neutrality by German agents onto Swiss territory. On the other hand, they were beginning to grow apprehensive about military conscription plus the development of the Luftwaffe in Germany, not to mention the recently concluded naval agreement with Britain. When von Neurath forwarded the secret Swiss proposal to Hitler, he surprised everyone by advising the Führer to reject their offer and continue the arbitration “despite its undesirable consequences.” 22 One week later, Lammers telegraphed von Neurath that Hitler would consider the Jacob question on Sunday, 8 September.23 Just what transpired at Berchtesgaden is not known, but the main thrust of the Führer’s decision was clear: quash the whole affair, and re-

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turn Jacob to Switzerland as soon as possible without arousing notice by the press.24 Von Weizsäcker and Motta were delegated to accomplish this order. Accordingly, Jacob was released and sent to Basel on Tuesday morning, 17 September, but the Swiss immediately hustled him into France on the grounds that he had originally entered Switzerland without a valid passport. Once in Strasbourg, he was finally freed and reunited with his wife.25 What then became of those who had been directly involved in the plot? Günther Patschowsky, head of Amt III-C of the Gestapo, was replaced by Dr. Werner Best, a former Police President from the state of Hesse. When this took place is not entirely clear, although it was probably in June 1935. Why Patschowsky was replaced is perhaps the more interesting question. Was it because the Jacob affair was out of control, and had brought international disgrace to Germany? There is some indication that Heydrich did not like Patschowsky, and was looking for an excuse to transfer him from Gestapo headquarters in Berlin. Nevertheless, Patschowsky left with his reputation intact, and was promoted from SS Obersturmbannführer to Standartenführer.26 Far from being dismissed from the Gestapo, Walter Richter was also promoted from Kriminalkommissar to Kriminalrat. Joachim Manz and Gustav Krause effectively disappeared and were never heard from. Wesemann’s fate, however, remained uncertain, since a trial in Switzerland lay before him.

NOTES 1. The first Swiss report of 27 July 1935 is located in the Schweizerisches Bundesarchiv, Bern. 2. J. N. Willi, Der Fall Jacob-Wesemann, 1935–1936 (Berlin: Peter Lang, 1972), p. 110. 3. The manuscripts of these have not survived. 4. Gestapo to von Bülow, 1 Aug. 1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 913, frames 384108–384111. 5. Ibid. 6. Von Bülow report of 3 Aug. 1935, ibid., 384102–384107. 7. Ibid. 8. Von Neurath to Lammers, 4 Aug. 1935, ibid., 384100–384101. 9. Lammers to von Neurath, 7 Aug.1935, National Archives microcopy T-120, roll 5036, M007279. 10. German Foreign Ministry to von Hoesch, 8 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007241–M007247. 11. Fuehr to von Bülow, 8 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007248–M007250. 12. Von Bülow to von Neurath, 13 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007280–M007281. 13. Von Neurath to von Bülow, 19 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007287. 14. Foreign Ministry to Gestapo, 20 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007261.

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15. Report of Marschall von Bieberstein, 16 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007401– M007405. 16. Bielfeld report of 15 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007399–M007400. 17. Report of Van Scherpenberg, 28 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007408. 18. Von Bülow undated memorandum of late August 1935, ibid., M007288–M007289. 19. Von Bülow to von Neurath, 24 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007290–M007291. 20. The German response to the Swiss statement of 27 July is dated 24 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007311–M007321. 21. Von Bülow to von Neurath, 30 Aug. 1935, ibid., M007292–M007293. 22. Von Neurath to Lammers, 31 Sept. 1935, microcopy T-120, roll 913, 384112–384115. 23. Lammers to von Neurath, 6 Sept. 1935, ibid., 384114–384115. 24. Memorandum by Hans Thomsen, 9 Sept. 1935, ibid. See also von Neurath memorandum of 9 Sept. 1935, microcopy T-120, roll 3400, E610019; and von Bülow memorandum of 9 Sept. 1935, T-120, roll 5036, M007358. 25. Memorandum by Ernst Woermann, 16 Sept. 1935, T-120, roll 5036, M007382. 26. For Patschowsky’s promotion in June 1935 see the files at the Bundesarchiv III, Berlin/Zehlendorf, formerly known as the Berlin Document Center.

9

THE TRIAL AND ITS AFTERMATH, 1936–1938 Once Jacob returned to France, the Basel Prosecutor, Emil Häberli, and his assistant, Anton Roy Ganz, focused their attention on Wesemann. In their eyes, it had been clear from the outset that Wesemann would eventually have to stand trial under Section 125 of the Swiss criminal code for his involvement in Jacob’s kidnapping. What was less certain was whether they were going to widen the scope of the trial to include its broader political and criminal implications, or whether they would narrow the indictment. The answer inevitably depended on Germany’s response to Swiss diplomatic pressure, and so initially the Prosecutor cast his investigatory net very wide in order to counter the predicted German denials and evasions. Once the arbitration proceedings were halted and Jacob was set free, it seemed unnecessary to exploit the Jacob-Wesemann case more fully. Therefore, as part of the September 1935 resolution of the German-Swiss dispute, the Swiss agreed to reduce the charges against Wesemann. Under Swiss law, a public trial was required, but it was agreed that certain lines of questioning would be curtailed. The German Foreign Minister assured his embassy in London that the whole issue of Wesemann’s work for them would be muted. The defense would be given an opportunity to make a statement about the embassy’s use of Wesemann’s reports, after which the prosecution promised to refrain from pursuing this line of inquiry. In fact, the defense decided to base its case principally on the

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contents of the German response of 24 August 1935 when it looked as though arbitration would continue.1 Prosecutor Häberli assisted Wesemann in preparing his defense by suggesting that his Swiss attorney, Dr. Hans Kramer, one of the leaders of the Swiss National People’s Party, gather evidence in Germany. Kramer readily followed this advice, and asked the German Consulate in Basel to cooperate with the German Foreign Ministry in Berlin because he needed witnesses who could provide him with material supporting Wesemann’s contention that he was a staunch patriot, and that Jacob had been systematically undermining Germany’s image abroad.2 He also required details concerning Jacob’s alleged criminal behavior, exposing Germany’s military rearmament. The Foreign Ministry indicated that it would be pleased to assist Kramer, provided that he did not seek classified information. However, they also made it clear that they did not want to deal with him on an official level. They were willing to supply him with information through a third party, such as a lawyer in Berlin, but he was never to make contact with the Gestapo.3 To facilitate preparation of the case, the Prosecutor invited Jacob to Basel in late December 1935. No doubt Jacob had very mixed emotions about crossing from France into Switzerland ten months after his previous fateful journey, but there was an added inducement for him to cooperate with Häberli’s office: the Swiss Prosecutor offered to assist him in filing a civil suit against Wesemann for personal damages of 10,000 francs. Jacob’s presence in Basel provided an opportunity for the two protagonists, now antagonists, to face each other for the first time since the kidnapping. Somewhat surprisingly, Wesemann took the offensive, trying to justify his actions on the grounds that Jacob had betrayed German military secrets in their conversations with each other about the construction and tonnage of German submarines. Wesemann also accused Jacob of working for the French Deuxième Bureau. Jacob vigorously denied both allegations, saying that he had never privately or publicly cited specific figures, nor had he been a French undercover agent. During the months of delay before the trial took place, Wesemann was kept in prison in Basel where he underwent frequent interrogations. Soon after his arrest in March 1935 he was permitted to write a farewell letter to Lisa Stoll in Berlin, and he also wrote to his mother, assuring her that he was well and that she should not worry unduly about him. Beyond the prison walls, an odd episode, possibly connected with his case, occurred on 12 April 1935. A unknown man made an appointment in Basel with a self-employed masseuse, Josephine Brodard. During the

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course of the massage he asked her whether she would like to earn some extra money by conveying a special message to Hans Wesemann. It was suggested that she could try to meet him personally on the pretext of giving him a massage, or she might be able to persuade a sympathetic policeman or guard to pass along a letter to him. If she succeeded, she was promised 100 Marks.4 Nothing came of this because Brodard promptly reported the incident to the Swiss police. Since this happened quite early in the investigation, it is certainly possible that the Gestapo or another German agency wanted to smuggle a note to Wesemann, urging him to say as little as possible. The trial itself began on 5 May 1936.5 In an opening statement, Wesemann sketched his life from his birth in 1895 to his departure from Germany in March 1933. Understandably, he tried to portray his past in a most sympathetic light, telling the court how his father had sold his estate near Nienburg in 1913, and how he was made a virtual pauper by the rampant inflation of the early 1920s. He described his university training, his securing a doctorate, and then embarking on a career as a journalist. Although he admitted that he had earned quite good money from 1926–1933, he said that once he came to Britain in 1933, he shared the fate of most refugees: penury. He was even forced to apply for relief from a Labour Party refugee fund. One of the early witnesses for the prosecution was Wilhelm Lützelschwab, whom the Prosecutor had sent to Paris to gather evidence. Among those questioned were Helmut von Gerlach, Rudolf Breitscheid, Ernst Toller, and Ilse Meyer, Wesemann’s former wife, who acknowledged that money had played an important role in her ex-husband’s life, but who found it hard to believe that he would stoop so low as to kidnap someone. A major witness for the prosecution was Roy Ganz, who described his several trips to London to uncover evidence. In his conversations with Dora Fabian she reiterated what many refugees had alleged, that Wesemann promised to place articles for others, and then pocketed the proceeds. Wesemann later claimed that only Fabian had accused him of this, based on a specific article written by Lehmann-Russbüldt. Statements and letters from fellow exiles Helmut von Gerlach, Victor Schiff, and Wolfgang Hallgarten were entered as character references. Throughout the trial Wesemann was given an opportunity to clarify evidence or to refute it. Consequently, he strongly denied Schiff’s contention that he had been expelled from Switzerland in 1925 for sexual perversion. He also disputed Gerlach’s claim that he had been fired from

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the staff of Die Welt am Montag. Further, he maintained that he had not had anything to do with the arrest of Werner Kohlberg in January 1935. Throughout the trial the tactic of the prosecution was to depict Wesemann as a man of unsavory character, verging on the criminal, while the strategy of the defense involved issuing speedy rebuttals of the various charges, and insisting that their client was in fact normal, hard working, and willing to help others, but weak when pressured by circumstances or officialdom. From time to time the prosecution introduced excerpts from Wesemann’s interrogation sessions, and asked him to comment upon them, expecting to expose inconsistencies, or catch him in outright lies. In general, however, his explanations merely elaborated on his personality and lifestyle, and steered clear of providing compromising revelations about the Third Reich. The prosecution’s key witness was undoubtedly Berthold Jacob, who appeared in person before the court. In a very controlled manner, he traced his journalistic career, mentioning that he had known Wesemann since 1922. He described his UZD news service in Strasbourg as very small scale, having only fourteen regular subscribers, and an entire print run of only seventy additional copies for general distribution. He denied links with French intelligence and the Reichswehr, and stated his conviction that he had been kidnapped by the Gestapo not because he was Jewish, but in order to uncover his sources of information. He described how Wesemann had encouraged him to visit Britain and issue an English-language version of his news service, and credited Wesemann with having convinced Wickham Steed to endorse his enterprise. He cited other indications of Wesemann’s good faith: the occasional payments he had made on one pretext or another; the 200 francs Wesemann provided for expenses connected with his trip to the Saar in November 1934; and his offer to secure a passport for him. Jacob then reconstructed the scene just prior to his kidnapping: how he had told Wesemann that he might visit a friend in Basel, which, he realized in retrospect, played into the hands of those plotting against him. He described his arrival in Basel on 9 March, his meeting Wesemann, and their going out to dinner together. He repeated his intention not to stay overnight in Basel, but to reclaim his suitcase which he had left with a friendly guard at the French-Swiss frontier. Walking to the restaurant, he had paid little attention as they crossed the Rhine, not suspecting an abduction, even though he knew stories about other refugees who had disappeared. He described the arrival after dinner of Monsieur Mattern: his bluff good humor, and his keen relish over haggling the price of two new passports. He stoutly denied that he had drunk too much, although he ad-

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mitted that both of them had a fair amount to drink. He guessed that he must have been drugged, because when he rose from the table he nearly keeled over and had to be assisted to the car. When asked by the judges whether he would have known if the car had taken a wrong turn and headed in the direction of the border, Jacob replied that he would not, since he had been nearly unconscious during the drive. Next, Wesemann testified for an extended period of time, describing the plans leading to Jacob’s kidnapping, its execution, and his movements in and out of Basel afterwards. He mentioned Richter, Manz, and Krause, but not Heydrich and Himmler. He also explained why he had decided to confess on 29 March, after having previously denied involvement in the kidnapping: remorse. He said he knew that he was taking a chance, since the Nazis might retaliate by poisoning him, which was why he had asked the Swiss prison officials to monitor his food closely. Initially, he made one proviso regarding his testimony: he would refuse to discuss his work for the Gestapo. Nevertheless, he was willing to confirm his renewed faith in the Third Reich which was rekindled when he went to Berlin in August 1934 and witnessed Germany’s spiritual rebirth and revived sense of destiny. He challenged the court to justify why Germany did not have a right to reestablish her strong position in Europe, without having refugees like Münzenberg and Jacob seriously undermining her efforts. When he had finished testifying, he surprised onlookers by asking the court for mercy, lamenting the ruin he had brought upon himself and the scandal he had inflicted on his Fatherland. In his summation, Wesemann’s attorney, Kramer, dwelt upon Jacob’s insidious behavior as an émigré journalist, virtually goading German patriots into trying to curb his activities, and praised his client’s First World War record which included three decorations. He also attempted to cast doubt on the gratuitous statements of refugees who had come forward only after learning of Wesemann’s possible part in the kidnapping. His response to allusions by the prosecution that Wesemann’s journalistic standards were inferior, was to ask why, if this were true, did Die Welt am Montag retain his services until late in 1932? Finally, he urged the court to give Wesemann credit for the time he had already spent in prison since 29 March 1935 in order that he be able to join his fiancée in Venezuela. The sentence handed down by the court on 6 May 1936 nevertheless stipulated that Wesemann should spend three years in prison, minus the time he had already served, and must pay 5,000 francs to Berthold Jacob as monetary compensation. The judge reprimanded Wesemann for being a man of weak character who had badly managed his life in exile, lying and deceiving others for financial gain, and remarked that far worse than

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the criminal act of kidnapping was the betrayal of a friend and fellow countryman. On 15 May 1936 Kramer appealed this decision on the grounds that Jacob’s kidnapping should be viewed as a political, rather than a criminal, act. Wesemann was given permission to address the court of appeals, and petitioned for a shorter sentence, reiterating his desire to begin a new life across the Atlantic. In July, well before the verdict regarding the appeal was announced, Wesemann wrote a letter to the German Foreign Ministry asking for assistance in securing a German passport and enough money to emigrate to Venezuela. As if by fate, Wesemann’s request found its way to Ernst Rüter, who commented: “His demand for financial support after his re lease and his demand for a new passport seem to contain an implied threat of further compromising the Ministry if his requests are not granted.” 6 Rüter suggested that no decision be made until after Wesemann’s release, but in the interim he recommended that the Gestapo be approached as to their willingness to absorb the costs of rehabilitating Wesemann, since he had last worked for them. On 1 September 1936 the court formally rejected Wesemann’s appeal.7 Early in 1937 Dr. Best, Patschowsky’s successor at the Gestapo, replied to the Foreign Ministry. He agreed that it was too soon to decide how they would handle Wesemann, since he still had more than a year left of his prison term, but he acknowledged that there was no reason to place restrictions on Wesemann’s passport when it was eventually issued.8 On 29 March 1938 Wesemann was finally released, and accompanied by his lawyer and a Swiss policeman, he went directly to the office of the German Consulate in Basel where he was issued a passport bearing number 705 and the expiry date of 29 March 1939. Of the money he carried when he was arrested, there remained about 40 Swiss francs. Using these he purchased a suitcase and a rail ticket to Genoa, and was ushered onto the next train to Italy by the policeman. In Genoa, his troubles escalated. As always, money was a problem. In the first place, he needed about 700 Swiss francs to purchase passage by ship from Genoa to Venezuela. His parents could not assist him, but through an aunt in Germany, Marie Schaper, he had access to 500 Swiss francs, a considerable sum in light of the difficulty for most Germans to secure foreign currency. Secondly, he found that procuring a Venezuelan visa was fraught with difficulties. At the outset, the Venezuelan Consulate required a statement from Germany that he did not have a criminal record. Fortunately, enough time had passed since his arrest and trial that his name was not well known in Italy, and he chose to ignore his incarcer-

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ation in Switzerland. The Consulate also required proof of having paid for at least part of his passage before it would consider issuing him a visa. Thirdly, while these matters were being settled, he needed money to pay for room and board as well as new clothes, since the British had confiscated his suits, shirts, underwear, three suitcases and two leather briefcases; a pair of binoculars; a camera; a new typewriter; a pair of gold cufflinks; a gold watch; and his gold engagement ring. All of his books, photographs, and papers had also disappeared. Fourth, as a consequence of his three years of captivity he was suffering from rheumatism, and his old malady of malaria returned, forcing him to spend ten days in the Protestant hospital. At one point he asked the German Foreign Ministry whether he could postpone sailing in early May and come back to Germany for a brief visit, suggesting that he had important things to tell the Gestapo which would vindicate his reputation in official quarters. He also hoped to say farewell to his parents whom he had not seen in many years. Furthermore, a postponement of his trip would enable him to sail on a German ship, which he thought would be more congenial than an Italian liner. However, the Ministry took a dim view of this idea, and insisted that he depart directly from Genoa for Venezuela. At another juncture Wesemann resorted to an implied threat, hoping that this would pressure the Foreign Office into granting him additional funds. He noted that several British Members of Parliament such as Arthur Henderson and Geoffrey Mander had written to him seeking further details of his operations in England, but he added that thus far he had not responded to these requests. He also told them about several handsome bids by various newspapers to publish his memoirs. The Schweizer Beobachter, for example, had offered him 5,000 francs for a serialization, and a Danish newspaper had expressed keen interest in his story. It was still my national duty to refuse these opportunities to exploit my case commercially. I am also not going to complain about the moral and material damage to my existence which I have suffered in the service to my country. In big things I gladly sacrifice myself. I ask you to believe me when I say that I never neglected my duty or betrayed my comrades. I was convicted in part through the treachery of German officials.9

What he had in mind when writing this last sentence is difficult to imagine. Conceivably he meant that his Gestapo handlers, Richter and Manz, bungled everything by insisting that he remain for several weeks in Switzerland following Jacob’s disappearance, whereas if he had left Switzerland immediately and returned to Britain he could have main-

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tained, as he tried when first arrested by the Swiss, that he had parted company with Jacob at the restaurant and had not seen him thereafter. For whatever reason, his pleas for financial help from his former German associates eventually bore fruit. On 29 April 1938 Walter Richter left Berlin for Genoa, carrying US $550 to give to Wesemann for his passage and any other needs. At their meeting Richter discussed with Wesemann his future in Venezuela, and stressed the importance of maintaining a low profile there. He specifically rejected the idea that Wesemann could return to Germany in the foreseeable future. NOTES 1. German Foreign Ministry to German Embassy, London, 22 Oct. 1935, National Archives microcopy, T-120, roll 5036, M007475–M007476. 2. German Consulate, Basel, to German Foreign Ministry, 3 Oct. 1935, ibid., M007460–M007461. 3. Foreign Ministry to Justice Ministry, 14 Oct. 1935, ibid. 4. Staatsarchiv, Basel, Wesemann case, p. 470. 5. Trial transcripts, Wesemann case, p. 863, subpages 1–63. 6. Rüter memorandum of 25 July 1936: Foreign Ministry Archives, Bonn, file 5095, Legal Department, Volume IV, Switzerland. 7. J. N. Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann 1935–1936 (Berlin: Peter Lang, 1972), p. 152. 8. Best to Foreign Ministry, 7 and 26 Jan. 1937; Foreign Ministry to Gestapo, 18 Jan. 1937; Foreign Ministry Archives, Bonn, file 5095. 9. Wesemann to Weizsäcker, 11 April 1938, ibid.

10

LATIN AMERICAN INTERLUDE, 1938–1941 On 3 May 1938 Wesemann set sail from Genoa on the SS Virginia, expecting to arrive in Caracas on the 18th. As he crossed the Atlantic he had time to consider his hopes and fears about his new life in Venezuela. He was confident that Carmen and her family would welcome him in their established circle of Venezuelan friends, but he worried about how the German community would regard him. He had become used to being a man of consequence who had been entrusted with clandestine missions by the Gestapo, and he knew it would be difficult to give up his career as a secret agent. On the other hand, he suspected that his notoriety had probably preceded him, and this made him worry whether his fellow Germans would greet him as a hero dedicated to serving the Fatherland or an inept spy who had disgraced the Third Reich. Two years before Wesemann landed, the Nazi organization in Venezuela (Landesgruppe) and its local counterpart in Caracas (Ortsgruppe) had been dissolved, although the Venezuelan authorities tolerated Nazi-affiliated groups such as the German Labor Front, the German Relief Society, the Hitler Youth for boys, and the League of German Girls, until the beginning of 1938. Then, all foreign organizations were declared illegal, but an exception was made for Arnold Margerie, the leader of the Ortsgruppe, who was permitted to continue working for Casa Bayer, a subsidiary of I.G. Farben.1 Ostensibly, it did not matter to Wesemann whether the Nazi Ortsgruppe in Caracas was still functioning because he had never been a

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party member, and therefore would not be eligible to participate in its activities. Yet he had always thrived on intrigue, and was drawn to clandestine operations. During the long-lived dictatorship of Juan Vincente Gomez (1909–1935), Venezuela was quite well-disposed towards fascist organizations. However, Gomez’s successor as president, General Elizar Lopez Contreras, vacillated in his inclination whether to adopt democratic or authoritarian policies. Nominally a liberal, he promoted political parties and encouraged the formation of trade unions and other workers’ organizations, and voluntarily reduced his presidential term from seven years to five. Yet, in June 1936 he issued a Public Order prohibiting resident aliens from taking part in Venezuelan politics or being members of a foreign political movement, and in 1937 he banned political parties altogether. These measures were directed primarily at Communists and their Soviet agents, but eventually the German organizations were forced to comply. Correspondingly, there was a change of mood among Venezuelans in 1938. They began to see Hitler as the aggressor toward France and his other German neighbors, and were troubled by his anti-semitism and anti-clericalism. As the third largest producer of oil in the world behind the United States and the Soviet Union, Venezuela had no reason to play up to Germany in spite of persistent German wooing. It was more important to seek good relations with the United States. The number of German citizens (Reichsdeutsche) and those of German descent (Volksdeutsche) living in Venezuela was comparatively small. The country’s overall population in the late 1930s was approximately 3.5 million; 150,000 of whom lived in Caracas. Scattered throughout the country were about 3,600 Reichsdeutsche and Volksdeutsche, less than half claiming German citizenship. Within Caracas, about 600 were German nationals. When Hitler came to power in early 1933, the Germans in Venezuela were slow to support him. However, their strong sense of patriotism combined with nostalgia for the Old Country gradually overcame their tendency to be non-political. By 1938, 238 Germans were members of the NSDAP, 150 of whom were residents of Caracas. These became the nucleus of the Ortsgruppe, which now had to be more circumspect. Instead of openly propagandizing and recruiting German émigrés, they had to urge them to join the nominally social, cultural, and sports clubs, seeking to dominate positions in local institutions like the German school and the German hospital. There is no evidence that Wesemann cultivated the acquaintance of Arnold Margerie, the Landesgruppenleiter, but he may well have. We do

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know that he sought out the German Minister, Erwin Poensgen (1882–1966) who was not a member of the Nazi Party. Poensgen had entered the diplomatic service in 1913, and was subsequently posted to Lisbon, Madrid, Luxembourg, Guatemala, and Mexico City. With a reputation as an expert on economics, and the heir to a renowned industrial family, he had assumed his duties in Caracas in May 1937. Wesemann undoubtedly had some contact with the German consul in Caracas, Curt Ludwig Martin Hammerschmidt, who was appointed in May 1934 after being the agent for the Hamburg-American line in Caracas and its port city of LaGuaira since 1931. As a member of the NSDAP he was very visible and took an active role in the larger German community. Another Party member that Wesemann presumably knew was Helmut Hesse, an expert on trade and markets who was the German Legation’s Commercial Attaché. Wesemann had no intention of fading into obscurity, as he made clear in a letter to Ernst von Weizsäcker, the German Consul in Basel, about ten days after reaching Caracas.2 He first described his uneventful transAtlantic voyage and reception in Caracas, and then gave his address as 2 Santa Teresa de la Cruz, Serde. He related that the Venezuelan authorities had questioned him closely about his journalistic intentions, and that he had given them assurances that he would not become involved in any subversive activities. He explained that the staff of the German Embassy in Caracas realized that he might have to avoid the German colony and confine himself to the company of his fiancée and other Venezuelans, but he objected that this would make for a difficult and dull existence. He admitted that he was very anxious to avoid any publicity stemming from the Jacob affair and his subsequent trial and imprisonment, in spite of having discovered that the Venezuelan press had covered these events in considerable detail. Then he added, “The strong Jewish element here as well as the many Swiss who keep up with their own press . . . means that they have their own full-time correspondents here.” The dense coverage indi cated that it would probably be risky to remain very long in Caracas for fear of his past coming back to haunt him, embarrassing not only his fiancée but possibly Germany itself. His real hope was to return to Europe not long after his marriage, perhaps in the autumn of 1938, going first to Italy, and then if possible to Germany, providing he could be assured that there would be no reprisals by the German government. He concluded, “We will be financially comfortable and can manage easily without the as sistance of the German authorities.” Until he was married, Wesemann was exceedingly short of cash. At one point he was reduced to taking a job in a brick and chalk factory, and

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in conversations with the Italian Ambassador in Caracas he was given some hope of employment, until he could return to Europe. One of his concerns was the unpaid bill of 206.40 Swiss francs from Hans Kramer for legal services rendered between 1935 and 1938. He had discussed this matter with Richter in Genoa in late April 1938, and Richter said he would take care of it immediately, but apparently nothing had been paid, so on 29 July Wesemann wrote to the German Foreign Ministry to enlist their help in settling the claim. They subsequently raised the subject with Richter who assured them that the Gestapo would cover the expense.3 Wesemann continued plying the German Foreign Ministry with suggestions and requests during the summer of 1938, offering to become a liaison between the German government, especially the Gestapo, and the Venezuelan secret police. He reported that Friedrich Jacoby, a former agent for the deposed Austrian chancellor Kurt von Schuschnigg, was in Caracas, and mentioned the propaganda being spread by the Comintern and the Russian news agencies, Pravda and Izvestia, suggesting that he provide them with translations into German. The Foreign Ministry and the Gestapo, in the person of Richter, took a very dim view of these proposals, and made it abundantly clear that Wesemann should not seek to be any kind of liaison between the Venezuelans and the Germans.4 He was advised to remain in Caracas for at least the next few years and not return to Europe. The Gestapo pointedly refused any guarantee of safe conduct if he again set foot on German soil. Undaunted, Wesemann went over Richter’s head and addressed his requests directly to Reinhold Heydrich whose reaction left no doubt about his position. “Dr. Wesemann has shown that he cannot handle difficult as signments such as the Jacob Salomon affair. I therefore do not intend to respond to any offers of his and I would appreciate it if the German Embassy in Caracas would refuse to forward any more of his letters.” 5 The German Embassy in Caracas conveyed this message to Wesemann, who presumably made no further approaches to the Gestapo. The precise date of his marriage to Carmen is uncertain, but it probably took place in the autumn of 1938. He was nearly forty-three years old, and she was two years younger. Both were beginning to show signs of middle age: weight gain and periodic bouts of poor health, he with the return of malaria, and she with chronic stomach pains. While Hans and Carmen were adjusting to married life, events in Europe became catastrophic. Initially, the outbreak of war in September 1939 left the Western Hemisphere relatively untouched, but a number of Latin American countries were conscious of the belligerents currying their favour as suppliers of raw materials and providers of safe maritime

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harbors. Local police forces stepped up their surveillance of foreign nationals and monitored inappropriate actions by resident aliens. Although Hans had tried to minimize his contact with the German community in Caracas when he first arrived, once war had broken out he joined other Germans consorting together and taking notice of the rapid military advances of the Third Reich. One evening in June 1940, without any warning, police came and placed him under arrest, on the trumped-up charge of sheltering escaped thieves from Columbia in his house. His incarceration panicked Carmen, who readily acquiesced when a German refugee, Paul Strobelt, said that he could arrange for her husband’s release if she could give him 300 bolivars. Only later did she learn that Strobelt had celebrated his commission by getting drunk and talking about his entrepreneurship to the local bar patrons. When word of his boast reached the authorities, Strobelt found himself in the same jail as Wesemann. Wesemann was eventually released, provided he agreed to leave the country.6 This posed the problem of where he might go, or more precisely, who would take him in. The Somoza regime in Nicaragua was still on good terms with Germany, so he decided to submit visa applications for himself and Carmen. To procure these, he found that he needed a certificate attesting to his good conduct from the Caracas police. Fortunately, Commander-General Aniceto Cubillan was willing to ignore his recent detention and sign a document on 8 July 1940 certifying that “Johannes Wesemann had no record for the past five years as a disturber of the peace.” 7 Packing a few things suitable for air travel, Hans and his wife departed for Managua on 22 July 1940. For Carmen, it was certainly distressing to have to leave her country and embark upon an uncertain life in exile, but for Hans the prospect of leaving may not have been so gloomy, since he could look forward to associating more freely with other Germans in Nicaragua where the restrictions were not as severe as they were in Venezuela. In his book, The Game of the Foxes, Ladislas Farago, a Hungarian journalist who worked with the U.S. Office of Naval Intelligence and Radio Free Europe, claimed that Wesemann did not go directly to Nicaragua, but came to the United States.8 He related that Wesemann continued as a spy for the Abwehr, and under orders from his Abwehr control officer, Commander Traugott Andreas Richard Protze, was switched from setting a trap to kidnap Willi Münzenberg in Paris to stalking the Russian intelligence officer, Walter Gregorievitch Krivitsky in America. Krivitsky was the chief of the Soviet Secret Service in Western Europe until 1937 when he defected and eventually surfaced in New York City. A former acquain-

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tance, the political cartoonist Emery Kelen, was sure that she had spotted Wesemann at a bus stop on Lexington Avenue, and telephoned the FBI. They professed little interest until the war broke out, but then added Wesemann’s name to their list of suspects. Farago asserts that Wesemann was not alone in tracking Krivitsky. There was also a well-known Soviet agent sent by the NKVD to prevent Krivitsky from revealing any more details of his spy activities on behalf of Stalinist Russia than he had already written about in a series of articles in the Saturday Evening Post, beginning with the issue of 15 April 1939, and a book, In Stalin’s Secret Service, brought out by Harper & Bros. in October 1939. According to Farago, Wesemann was Protze’s “ace operator for the sur veillance of refugees . . . a clever, charming, debonair man, welcome in the best circles in all the Western European capitals. [However,] behind his soigné and respectable exterior, Wesemann was absolutely unscrupulous.” Wesemann picked up Krivitsky’s trail in New York and followed him closely until he realized that the FBI had put the name of his Russian counterpart on their list of suspects. At that point Wesemann felt that his own cover was wearing thin, and asked to be recalled, but Protze ordered him to continue. Several weeks later he was sent to Japan where he received instructions to go to Brazil and Nicaragua before returning to the United States. For reasons Farago does not mention, Wesemann was not able to leave Yokohama until 13 August 1940. Once back in the United States in December 1940, Wesemann resumed tracking Krivitsky between New York and Washington until 9 February 1941. That evening he stood across the street while Krivitsky registered at the Bellevue Hotel in Washington. The next morning he learned that a chambermaid had discovered Krivitsky’s body sprawled on his bed, with a pistol beside him and a suicide note on the nightstand. Farago alleges that Wesemann later reported to his Abwehr handler at the German Legation in Venezuela, nominally the Commercial Attaché, “I am positive that he saw and recognized me. I think I have frightened him to death.” 9 Fascinating as Farago’s account is, it is almost entirely undocumented. Two issues of chronology immediately contradict what is known of Wesemann’s whereabouts in 1939–1941. There is no evidence that he ever left Venezuela between the time he arrived in May 1938 until he departed for Nicaragua in July 1940. To place him in Europe sometime in 1939 on the trail of Münzenberg seems unlikely in view of Heydrich’s strong rebuke to Wesemann in October 1938.

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The second anachronism is the date that Farago gives for Wesemann’s departure from Japan for Latin America. Hearings conducted by the U.S. State Department place the date when Hans and Carmen left Caracas for Managua as 22 July 1940. There was no way that Wesemann could have entered the United States, gone to Japan, and disembarked for Venezuela by 13 August. It is possible that Farago received his information about Wesemann from Richard Protze who was interviewed by the British journalist and historian, Ian Colvin, after the war.10 If Farago spoke with Protze, this would account for some of the discrepancies in Farago’s account of Wesemann’s movements during 1939–1941. Protze worked for German military intelligence, the Abwehr, which had nothing to do with the Gestapo, a secret service primarily concerned with domestic surveillance. Thus, it is possible that by 1939 Protze had recruited Wesemann without either Richter or Heydrich knowing anything about it. A former naval officer, Protze served from 1928–1938 as head of Abwehr III-F, the department charged with counter-espionage and the penetration and elimination of foreign intelligence agencies. Until 1938, when he retired from this post, Protze would have been very interested in knowing about Soviet machinations in Western Europe, and in tracking Krivitsky in particular. However, Protze left Berlin in late 1938 and settled in the Netherlands town of Wassenaar on the outskirts of The Hague and worked for the official travel agency of the German railways. Although this job provided cover for him to gather information about the British secret service in the Netherlands, he was at best only a part-time Abwehr functionary, and could hardly have controlled an agent like Wesemann on the other side of the Atlantic.11 One might wonder why the Nazis were so interested in keeping track of a former Soviet agent-turned-defector in the years 1939–1941. Without doubt, the NKVD pursued Krivitsky because they hoped to either kidnap or kill him. The fact that his death was ruled a suicide by the Washington, D.C., police department didn’t prevent widespread speculation that murder might have been a more accurate verdict.12 On the other hand, if Krivitsky chose to kill himself, it was probably because he thought the Soviets had discovered his whereabouts and would threaten his wife and child. Once dead, he knew that his family would be safe. As to why both the Nazis and the Soviets were pursuing Krivitsky, the answer may reside in the cooperation assumed in the Nazi-Soviet pact signed in late August 1939. The Abwehr could have been recruited to assist the Russians in their overseas surveillance before 1941, but after the Germans invaded Russia, any close ties between them vanished.

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Given the discrepancies in jurisdiction, time, and place, Farago’s assertion that Wesemann was employed by the Abwehr and spent long periods during 1939, 1940, and early 1941 away from Nicaragua seems highly improbable. Moreover, there is no corroboration of his story in any surviving German or American records.13 When Hans and Carmen arrived as strangers to Nicaragua in July 1940, their reception was ambiguous. Nicaragua was the largest of the Central American republics, and the people were cautious about taking sides in the European war. In 1932, after the American marines withdrew from the country, it looked as though democratic institutions established under their jurisdiction would continue to grow. However, in 1936 the head of the national guard, General Anastasio Somoza, contrived to be elected president, and initiated a twenty-year dictatorship which, by 1940, was lending covert support to National Socialist Germany.14 Accordingly, the Wesemanns were informed that they would not be permitted to reside in Managua, but must settle initially in the mountain city of Jinotepe. Later they were allowed to move to Granada, with no restrictions on their right to travel. Wesemann knew only three Germans when he landed in Nicaragua: Paul Strobelt, who he had encountered in Venezuela, and Franz Bunge and Hugo Danckers, the former and current Honorary German consuls. From the beginning he distrusted Strobelt, not only because he had successfully extracted a bribe from his wife while he was in prison in Venezuela, but also because he became convinced that Strobelt was supplying the Americans with information about Germans in Nicaragua after hearing him boast, “Americans were all such dopes; you can tell them any thing and they will pay you money for it.” 15 Wesemann’s instinct proved correct. Strobelt was indeed an informant for the Americans, and reported details about the German community in Nicaragua to the American Legation in Managua, including particulars about Wesemann himself.16 He told them about a memorial service that was held at the German Club in Managua for a recently deceased German merchant, Pentzke, and added information about a private conference and a public dinner held at the club on Sunday, 26 January 1941. He also suggested that three brothers should be watched: Oscar, Albert William, and Julius, whose surname was Peter, but he could only say that Oscar spoke English well; Albert was “the most dangerous” and spoke Spanish; and Julius was an architect. He confirmed that the Somoza government was prepared to tolerate local Nazi Party groups (Ortsgruppen) if they acted discreetly, by which was meant that no publicity could appear in the local press. Furthermore, he noted that formal residency permits and

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other official documents were routinely denied to German émigrés like himself and Wesemann so that in a time of emergency they could be easily deported. Wesemann and Strobelt shared hotel rooms while traveling together in Nicaragua, and on one occasion Wesemann inadvertently left some of his personal papers in plain view, so Strobelt copied an annotated list of names and addresses which he then forwarded to the Americans. Krogg: Sek Lehner, Langenthal, Bern, Rumiweg, Switzerland. Georg Brammer: 7 Castlemaine Mansion, Maida-Vale, London. Gotthardt Schweizer: Kraftwerkstrasse, Ryburg-Möhlin, Argau, Switzerland. Eberhardt Kronhausen: currently living in Venezuela; single, tall, black wavy hair, about 23–24 years old, very intelligent with a good command of English and Spanish; possesses two German passports, one marked with a red letter “J” for Jew; on friendly terms with the German Vice Consul in Caracas, Alfred Rahnert; represents 17 several medical supply houses; travels often to Columbia and Ecuador.

Strobelt compiled a report on Wesemann that said that he always maintained a low profile in order to avoid unwanted publicity and press photographs, and to this end wore dark glasses, even though he did not need them. He lived in continual fear of deportation, especially if the United States declared war on Germany. If this happened, Wesemann planned to fly to Lisbon by trans-Atlantic clipper. He told Strobelt that he received no assistance from the German Consulate in Managua because he was considered independently wealthy due to his wife’s real estate holdings in Caracas and the 10,000 Marks he had been given by the German authorities when he was released from prison. According to Strobelt, Wesemann was “well regarded by the [Nicaraguan] police and the Guardia; he has bribed extensively among the chief officers, not handing over funds himself directly. The secretaries of the Guardia and other police have presented favorable descriptions of the conduct of Wesemann and his wife.” 18 Strobelt later revealed to the U.S. Department of State that prior to his arrival in Nicaragua he had received instructions from an unnamed German official to shed his identity and switch to being a Swiss national, Erich Guenther, in order to make it easier to enter the United States. This was possible because he had been given a false passport in 1938 by the German Minister to Bern, Ernst von Weizsäcker. This would seem ample proof to name Strobelt a double agent. Sometime during the summer of 1941 Wesemann’s comparative anonymity was blown by an exposé which was far more damaging than he could ever have anticipated. The British Legation in Managua began dis-

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tribution of a pamphlet titled “Hitler’s Shadow Over South America,” which contained allegations that Wesemann was acting as a Gestapo agent in Latin America.19 It was published by partisans of the Free German Movement founded by Otto Strasser, who with his brother Gregor were among Hitler’s original lieutenants, but broke with him over social and economic principles. Otto went into exile and established a strong base of anti-Nazi propaganda in Czechoslovakia until it fell in 1939. The summer of 1941 found him in Canada where he continued disseminating propaganda against the Third Reich. The Preface to his provocative pamphlet set the scene for his readers. “Being the strongest Anti-Nazi organization in South America, the ‘Free German Movement’ has observed with growing concern the spread of Naziism in South America with its methods of shrewd propaganda, ruthless terror, its lies and brutality.” 20 Following this implicit warning, a Fourth of July 1941 radio speech by Douglas Fairbanks Jr. titled “What I Saw in South America” is reprinted, alerting the United States to prepare for an invasion by “the Vanguard of Hitler’s army” in Central and South America. Strasser himself wrote three articles bemoaning the increasing numbers of Nazis in positions of power in industry and the military services in South America. The first article, “Hitler’s Shadow Over South America,” identified Dr. Christian Zinnser, the former German Consul in Buenos Aires, as head of the Gestapo organization, and alleged, “Zinnser’s main collaborator in Central America was and still is Gestapo chief Dr. Hans Wesemann, who achieved international notoriety a few years ago when he directed the kidnapping of the Jewish writer Berthold Jacob in Basel.” 21 Strasser briefly summarized Wesemann’s odyssey from prison in Switzerland to his appearance in Venezuela, and remarked, “No expla nation was ever ventured for his appearance there. He was later called to Nicaragua, became Zinnser’s chief assistant, and was given the task of organizing active sabotage on the Panama Canal.” Gottfried Sandsteed, an other colleague of Zinnser, was identified as an attaché of the German Legation in Buenos Aires and the reigning Gestapo chief in all of Latin America. Strasser concluded that “Should the United States be drawn into the war . . . South America is bound to become a field for the violent operation of the Axis powers.” A second article, “Hitler At The Panama Canal,” discussed the German presence in Venezuela, and pinpointed Wesemann as the Chief of Staff under Commercial Attaché Helmut Hesse. Together, Strasser asserts, Wesemann and Hesse founded a Sport Verein which was really a front for the SA and SS:

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With things as they are, Venezuela is the more important to Hitler because of the possibility of checking from there the strong army, navy and air forces of the United States. It is upon Venezuela, therefore, that he concentrates his greater political efforts, using the same old technique of propaganda and terrorism. Until the middle of 1936 only eighty-six people [out of a German colony of about 1,000] belonged to the Party as active members. However, the aggressive propaganda of the Nazi party, with a Brown House of its own, its own newspaper, etc., was so disagreeably felt that the government passed a law forbidding all aliens to indulge in any political activity. . . . Here, as in other countries, the Hitler regime disguised its most dangerous agents as diplomatic and consular officials, thereby making them untouchable. The German Minister in Venezuela, Erwin Poensgen, a member of a renowned industrial family and a famous economic expert, serves on as an innocent facade. Behind him hide Secretary of Legation Ramelow and Commercial Attaché Hesse, the Gestapo chiefs in Venezuela. Hesse’s most important henchman was the notorious Gestapo agent, Dr. Hans Wesemann, who won international “fame” by the abduction of the renowned writer, Berthold Jacob, from Switzerland. Even though Dr. Wesemann was sentenced by the Swiss court to several years of hard labor, he reappeared barely a year later as the right-hand man of Commercial Attaché Hesse in Venezuela, and organized the Gestapo there. Because of his trial and the publicity it gave his name, the Nazi government at least dared not entrust this convicted criminal with an official mission. But those tactics could be used for the two subchiefs of the Gestapo in Venezuela, Herr Rahnert and Herr Hartwig von Jessen who were appointed German consuls in Caracas and Maracaibo, respectively. This diplomatic status gave them immunity in their Gestapo activities.22

Strasser named a half dozen Nazi Party members active in Venezuela, each associated with a particular activity: Kuhn with Joy through Strength; Sittel with the Winter Community Chest; Sandmann (dubbed “that Hitlerian Valkyrie”) with German Womanhood; Hafermalz with the German Relief Organization; Heinz Blohm with the German Club, and Arnold Margerie with the Nazi Party. He ended the list, “In addition to all this, Dr. Hans Wesemann has become the head of the Gestapo in Nicaragua, on the other side of the Panama Canal. I know only too well that he is using the same tactics there which the Nazi Party has been using in the other Central and South American countries.” His third article, “Hitler in the Straits of Magellan,” revealed the pres ence of Nazi ships and U-Boats between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Not surprisingly, the newspapers in Managua and elsewhere seized on this information, and by September 1941 the United States government began to take an interest in Wesemann, especially if it could be determined that he had been involved in activities targeting the Panama Canal. The head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, J. Edgar Hoover, communicated his concern to Assistant Secretary of State, Adolf Berle.23 He

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wrote that he had been informed that Wesemann had been arrested by the Nicaraguans in July 1940 and confined to the city of Granada, but since then had been released and was free to maintain his contacts with other Germans. It was noted that the Nicaraguans preferred the United States to monitor him if this were deemed necessary. Duplicates of these letters were sent to the Director of Naval Intelligence, and the Assistant Chief of Staff of Army Intelligence. In addition, the State Department in Washington requested further information about Wesemann from the American Legation in Managua.24 Nearly two months elapsed before the Legation replied, admitting that they did not know very much about Wesemann’s precise movements, although they were certain he was not under arrest. Their inquiries resulted in learning that the Wesemanns had recently moved from the Hotel Alhambra to live with Solon Gutierrez, whose wife was a relative of Carmen from Venezuela. Of greatest interest was the fact that Wesemann was extremely bitter about his betrayal by Paul Ernst Strobelt. Nevertheless, Wesemann continued his routine in Granada, writing to contacts in Brazil and elsewhere, undoubtedly expressing apprehension about his future as a result of the allegations in the Strasser articles. On the eve of the United States’ entry into the war, he could only speculate where the winds of fortune would take him.

NOTES 1. The best source of information of the Caracas Ortsgruppe is Jobst H. Floto, Die Beziehungen Deutschlands zu Venezuela, 1933 bis 1958 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1991). 2. Wesemann to Weizsäcker, 28 May 1938, Foreign Ministry Archives, Bonn; Political Archives, Inland II-G. 3. Wesemann to German Consulate, Basel, 29 July and 1 September 1938; and German Consulate, Basel, to German Foreign Ministry, Berlin, 18 August 1938: Foreign Ministry Archives, Bonn, file 5095, Legal Department, Volume IV, Switzerland. 4. Foreign Ministry memorandum of 24 August 1938, and Foreign Ministry to German Embassy, Caracas, 9 June and 6 August 1938; ibid. See also: J.N. Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, 1935–1936 (Berlin: Peter Lang, 1972), pp. 113–14. 5. Heydrich to German Foreign Ministry, 29 October 1938, Foreign Ministry Archives, Bonn; Political Archives, Inland II-G. 6. Wesemann was later told by his Venezuelan lawyer that some outside country, perhaps the United States, had put pressure on the Venezuelan government to expel him. The precise dates of Wesemann’s incarceration in Caracas are uncertain, but he later said that it was shortly before he and his wife left Venezuela.

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7. The report, “Hearing Board for the Alien Enemy Control Section of the Department of State,” held in Crystal City, Texas, on 19 March 1946, can be found in Box 6, p. 32 of the files of the Special War Problems Division, National Archives, Washington, D.C. 8. L. Farago, The Game of the Foxes (New York: David McKay & Co., 1971), pp. 338–341. 9. Ibid., p. 341. 10. I. Colvin, Canaris: Chief of Intelligence (London: Gollanz, 1951), p. 195. 11. Protze is mentioned in the following volumes that deal with the Netherlands during the Second World War: L. de Jong, Hat Kominkrijk der Nederlanden in de Tweede Wereldoorlog (The Hague: M. Nijhoff, 1969), II, 319, 322; IV, 90–92; V, 875. 12. F.C. Griffin, “The Death of Walter Krivitsky,” Social Science, LIV (Summer 1979), 139–46; L. Waldman, Labor Lawyer (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1944), pp. 353, 363–64. 13. In the material which the FBI has on Wesemann, there is no suggestion that he was ever in the United States in the years 1939–41. Similarly, among the 500 pages of documents and newspaper cuttings which the FBI collected in connection with the Krivitsky case, there is no hint that the Soviet defector was being followed by a Nazi agent. 14. “Hearing Board,” p. 50. 15. Memorandum of the Department of State, Division of American Republics, 8 February 1941; enclosing reports of conversations held with P.E. Strobelt, 25 and 27 January 1941: National Archives, Diplomatic Branch, decimal file 862.20210. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid. 18. Ibid. 19. O. Strasser, “Hitler’s Shadow Over South America,” [1941], p. 11. 20. Ibid., p. 14. 21. Ibid., pp. 15–16. 22. Ibid., pp. 17–22. This article first appeared in the American magazine, Liberty, 7 June 1941. 23. Hoover to Berle, 2 September 1941, National Archives, Diplomatic Branch, decimal file 862.20210. 24. Secretary of State, Washington, to American Minister in Managua, 15 Sept. 1941: National Archives, Diplomatic Branch, decimal file 862.20210.

11

INTERNMENT, 1942–1945 The attack on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941 brought radical changes to the lives of many in the Western Hemisphere, including Hans and Carmen Wesemann. In response to pressure from the United States, enemy aliens throughout Central America were subject to internment. Thus, on 11 December the Nicaraguan Civil Guard appeared at the Wesemanns’ door and placed Hans under arrest. He was taken from Granada and then put in jail in Managua where he spent the next five months, including two weeks in the hospital, with a recurrence of malaria. When Hans was taken away, Carmen apparently returned to Caracas, unaware that the United States was negotiating with the Central American states to expel German and Italian residents so that they could be interned in the United States. For the Americans this proposal held two advantages: they would be able to interrogate enemy aliens themselves; and removing them from circulation would prevent them from functioning as agents of Axis espionage and sabotage. Among those that Wesemann met while he was imprisoned in Managua were two fellow Germans, Dr. Friedrich (Fritz) Karl Kaul, and a man named Blumenthal. Fritz Kaul was of some concern to him because their ideologies clashed, and Wesemann became convinced, perhaps quite rightly, that Kaul was out to discredit him.1 Kaul was his contemporary, but as a Jew, saw all things German quite differently from Wesemann. In the 1920s and 1930s he practiced law in Berlin, and may

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have joined the Communist Party because in February 1935, at about the time Wesemann kidnapped Berthold Jacob, he was arrested for anti-Nazi activities. He spent two years in a concentration camp, and when he was released, managed to leave Germany. He had trouble finding asylum anywhere, but eventually landed in Honduras. However, because he lacked proper immigration documents and his German passport had expired, he was expelled from there in October 1941. He then took refuge in Nicaragua, but soon found himself interned in Managua alongside Hans.2 During his incarceration Kaul apparently corresponded with Otto Strasser in Canada, and was designated by him as head of the Free Germany movement in Nicaragua. Unfortunately for Kaul, the local newspapers labelled this a fascist organization and alleged that he was working for the Gestapo.3 In mid-May Wesemann and Kaul found themselves, to their mutual discomfort, on a ship bound for the United States, two of several hundred enemy aliens on board the U.S. Army Transport Kent which docked at San Francisco on 27 May 1942. As soon as they disembarked, the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service officers placed them under arrest, since they had no visas or other documents permitting lawful entry. Of the seven possible camps where enemy aliens could be interned,4 Wesemann and Kaul were sent to Camp Kenedy, north of San Antonio, Texas. Originally, the camp had been used by the Civilian Conservation Corps, and accommodated 200 men, but by the summer of 1942 it had been expanded to house 1,200 internees from Central and Latin America.5 Wesemann remained there for only about seven weeks, but during that time he endured fifteen sessions with the camp dentist for pyorrhea, trench mouth, and bridgework.6 Meanwhile, Carmen was trying to find a way to join Hans in America. On 12 June she “voluntarily” surrendered to the American Embassy in Ca racas and asked to be incarcerated with her husband. Soon she was on a ship bound for New Orleans, and arrived there on 28 June. Two days later she had a tearful reunion with Hans at Camp Kenedy. Her first introduction to communal living was a medical examination by the camp physician who noted in his report that she measured five feet two inches tall and weighed 143 pounds, with blood pressure measuring 134/78. He observed that “internee has also received treatment for meno pause and is markedly and emotionally unstable.” 7 She spoke no English, which added to her distress, and adamantly refused to have her diseased teeth treated, having heard about Hans’ extensive ordeal. On 18 July the Wesemanns were moved to another camp which was far less austere and prison-like.8 Seagoville was 300 miles to the north on U.S. Highway 175, southeast of Dallas. It had been designed as a reforma-

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tory for women in 1940. The 833–acre site contained a number of dormitories that could each house 40–60 people. Each building had its own kitchen and recreation room. There was no fence enclosing the grounds, which remained true even after the facility was acquired by the Immigration and Naturalization Service in April 1942. Instead, there was a painted white line around the perimeter of the grounds which the internees were forbidden to cross, and which was patrolled by guards. By the time the Wesemanns arrived there, new buildings had been erected, enough to accommodate 650 married couples without children, spouses whose husbands were interned elsewhere, and single women. They found that about 250 of their fellow internees were Japanese, and the rest were Europeans, mostly Germans. Shortly after they settled in, Hans was again afflicted with malaria which continued to plague him for several months. He was not hospitalized this time, but had to stay in his and Carmen’s room. She, too, suffered from recurring abdominal pains which were thought to be caused by her gall bladder, since her appendix had been removed years before.9 Between bouts of malaria, Hans enjoyed collecting toys for sick children in the hospital where he and Carmen spent much of the next two years themselves. In the spring of 1944 Hans was hospitalized twice, and was described as particularly moody because “his pet snakes were turned out to the wide open spaces” during his confinement. Carmen was not a cooperative patient when she was hospitalized in February 1945. She was supposed to be taking a variety of medications, but she flushed some of the pills down the toilet. She complained of not being visited by a doctor for five days, although the hospital records showed that a physician had seen her every day. Her teeth continued to need attention, but she steadfastly refused treatment. In order to crochet, she used a magnifying glass rather than agreeing to be fitted with eyeglasses. With so little to occupy them, it is little wonder that medical complaints loomed large in their lives. By the spring of 1945 they had spent nearly four years interned, a dismaying contrast for Hans from the excitement and intrigue he’d known years before. Scarcely could he have anticipated how different his life would be once he left Europe. Whether he thought detention was a just retribution for his involvement with the Gestapo, he certainly came to lament his fate over and over again. In May 1945, after the war in Europe was over, the camp at Seagoville closed and returned to being a federal prison, necessitating the transfer of 400 internees to yet another Texas facility at Crystal City, less than thirty miles from the Mexican border.10 This former camp for migrant workers had been converted in 1942 into the largest U.S. detention facility. It com-

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prised 962 living units ranging from one room in a dormitory to three-room cottages containing an ice box and an oil stove. When Carmen and Hans arrived there on 14 May, the population numbered about 3,300; 777 of whom were Germans, 12 who were Italians, and 2,537 who were Japanese. More than half had been living in the United States; 1,293 had been extradited from Latin America and the West Indies. Crystal City lacked the minimum security atmosphere they were used to at Seagoville. It was floodlit at night, and was surrounded by a ten-foot high barbed wire fence, with guard towers every hundred yards. Patrols on horseback kept vigil outside of the fence. Yet, they could avail themselves of many more diversions than they had previously enjoyed. There was a tennis court, a barber shop, and a beauty parlor, and inmates organized concerts, plays, and dances to celebrate their ethnic festivals. One internee enthused, “I practically lived in the swimming pool. We were there when it was a swamp and first had to be drained. Removing the snakes and skinning them was a camp project undertaken by the young men as was the construction of the pool. . . . I too learned how to make hexagonal kites and was amazed one day to observe one suspended 4 or 5 feet above the ground by the heat radiating from the ground.” 11 Five buildings were set aside for schools, and children were instructed in their native languages. The German community produced its own camp newspaper, the Nachrichtenblatt des Lagers. There were opportunities to work for modest wages as farmers, poultry raisers, shoemakers, launderers, bakers, butchers, canners, and carpenters. Three weeks after reaching Crystal City, Carmen was bitten by a cat which may have been rabid, so she was required to have twelve painful injections. This affront heightened her resolve to find a way to leave the camp. Since the war in Europe was over, she saw no reason why she and Hans should not be freed, and wrote a letter to this effect to Nelson Rockefeller, a well-known friend of Latin America, asking for help in arranging for their return to Caracas.12 American internment camps at this time were, in fact, in an anomalous position with respect to the Geneva Convention and the treatment of internees. The Convention was designed to lay down rules for the incarceration of prisoners of war, whereas the Americans were dealing with either civilians resident in the United States or deportees from Latin America who were classified broadly as enemy aliens. The Immigration and Naturalization Service made a special point of opening detention camps for inspection by representatives of the International Red Cross, the YMCA and the YWCA, the American Friends Service Committee, and the National Catholic Welfare Conference. It also allowed access to

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priests and ministers, and provided a church building in the camp for worship services. Nonetheless, Carmen wrote to President Harry S. Truman on 4 July 1945, imploring him, in her most eloquent Spanish, to take pity on her and her German husband, describing their internment during three long years. She asked his permission to return to Venezuela where all of her family and friends lived, and where they could anticipate a warm welcome.13 At the same time, Carmen’s sister addressed a similar letter to the American legation at Caracas. Months dragged on, and summer turned into autumn, and finally to winter. Slowly it became clear that Hans would not be released until he came before an official Board of Inquiry which would either release him or deport him back to Germany.

NOTES 1. Hearing Board of the Alien Enemy Control Section of the Department of State, Crystal City, Texas, 19 March 1946: U.S. Department of Justice, Special War Problems Division, Box 6, p. 57, National Archives. 2. For background on F. K. Kaul, see: U.S. Justice Department, Immigration and Naturalization Service, Camp Kenedy, Texas, Case File Number 401/862, Naturalization Archives. 3. Hearing Board, 19 March 1946, ibid. 4. The seven federal camps in use at the time were located at Fort Stanton, New Mexico; Santa Fe, New Mexico; Fort Lincoln, North Dakota; Fort Missoula, Montana; and three Texas facilities at Seagoville, Crystal City, and Kenedy. 5. For background on the internment camps, see: H. Carter, et al., Administrative History of the Immigration and Naturalization Service During World War II (Washington, 1946), pp. 296–313. 6. Kenedy, Texas, Internment Camp Case File Number 401/935, National Archives. 7. Ibid. See also: Crystal City Internment Camp Case File Number 935/588. 8. For information about Seagoville, see Carter, Administrative History, as well as T. Everback, “Changes Inside and Out,” Dallas Morning News, October 1990; and letter from Arthur Jacobs to Everback, 12 October 1990. 9. For medical records pertaining to Hans and Carmen Wesemann, see Kenedy, Texas, Internment Camp Case File Number 401/935; and Crystal City Internment Camp Case file Number 935/588. 10. For background on the Crystal City Internment Camp, see Case File Number 935/588; and Immigration and Naturalization Service, “The Crystal City Internment Camp,” Monthly Report, V (December 1947), pp. 75–77; also information from former internees Arthur Jacobs and John Schmitz. 11. Letter from John A. Schmitz to Arthur Jacobs, 23 July 1989, quoted with the permission of John A. Schmitz.

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12. Letter from Carmen Wesemann to Nelson Rockefeller, 28 June 1945, U.S. Department of Justice, Special War Problems Division, Box 50, National Archives. 13. Letter from Carmen Wesemann to President Harry S. Truman, 4 July 1945, ibid., Box 3456. Her letter was enclosed with one from the Justice Department to the Special War Problems Division, 2 October 1945.

12

RESISTING DEPORTATION TO GERMANY, 1946–1948 Early in 1946 Wesemann learned that he could only be released from internment if he agreed to be deported to Germany. The United States government offered no other alternative, and said that if he did not go willingly he could be compelled. Ironically, his once fervent hope to return to Germany now loomed as a threat that he was determined to resist with all his remaining vigor. Among other reasons for not wanting to return to his homeland was Carmen’s reluctance to forsake her beloved Venezuela, for life in a war-ravaged and occupied country. Hans told the Americans that she “cannot get along with the arrogant Aryans and there fore she does not want to be repatriated to Germany.” 1 Besides his personal anxieties about being deported, Hans suspected that, as someone who had formerly worked for the Gestapo, he would be imprisoned upon his arrival in Germany, pending allied investigations into his past. In spite of the collapse of the Third Reich, it was still uncertain what de-Nazification would entail, and he had already spent too many years in a Swiss prison and American internment camps to risk further confinement, even in his native land. Therefore, he acted quickly and requested an appearance before an American Hearing Board in order to petition that he be allowed simply to return to Latin America with his Venezuelan wife. His plea was granted, and he was told to be ready to present his case on 19 March at the Crystal City Internment Camp.

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The Hearing Board was under the jurisdiction of the Alien Enemy Control Section of the U.S. Department of State. In the months leading up to Wesemann’s apppearance, the FBI and the Justice Department each prepared memoranda with background information about Hans for members who would serve on the board.2 They were informed by the Justice Department: The FBI states that the book “The Brown Network” names the alien [Wesemann] as a Gestapo agent in Europe who was mixed up in the kidnapping of a Swiss newspaperman. It also reports that a Venezuelan newspaper denounced Wesemann in 1940 as a Gestapo agent with an international record. In 1942 a Nicaraguan newspaper stated that he arrived in the company of a known German agent. His entry into Nicaragua was irregular, it seems, but they could not deport him because no other country would have him. He is blamed for stirring up a border dispute between Nicaragua and Honduras, and Otto Strasser, the leader of “Free Germany” in Canada, states that he [Wesemann] was the chief of the Ge stapo in Nicaragua and a Nazi of the first caliber.3

The FBI clarified several of these allusions. The “known German agent” entering Nicaragua with Wesemann was Paul Strobelt. As for “stirring up a border dispute between Nicaragua and Honduras,” this referred to the distribution of a pamphlet by Otto Strasser, “Hitler at the Panama Canal,” which inflamed a border dispute between the two states. The Justice Department memorandum also noted that Wesemann was on record as having made statements seeking to vindicate his collaboration with the Gestapo: In an interview of February 14, 1944, the alien admitted the accusation against him. He said that he left Germany in the early 30’s, and when his German passport expired he found himself in London. The German Legation there would not renew his passport unless he agreed to work for the Gestapo. He states that he had no choice, that he needed the passport and that he had an old father and mother in Germany for whom he cared.4

In this interview Wesemann revealed the arguments he planned to use when facing the Hearing Board in March. First, he would maintain that his passport expired in the spring or summer of 1934, when in fact it was valid until December of that year; second, he would imply that the German authorities would have refused to renew his passport unless he had agreed to work for the Gestapo; and third, he was given no choice in the matter because he feared Nazi retaliation against his parents if he had refused the Gestapo’s proposition. Whether he had actually come to believe these assertions over the years is anyone’s guess. He may have convinced himself that the Ger-

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mans would not have renewed his passport unless he went to Berlin and conferred with Richter. On the other hand, it was he who initiated the contact with the Embassy in London, and who offered to supply them with information about his fellow refugees in Britain. No evidence exists that suggests the Nazis threatened his family in Germany, but he may have thought that working for the Gestapo as well as the Embassy was the surest way of obtaining a passport. The Justice Department cited American diplomatic reports from Central America which described how Wesemann conducted himself in Venezuela and Nicaragua: [American] Embassy sources say that the German government did pay for his defense in the kidnapping case and gave him 10,000 Marks when he was released to go to Venezuela. These sources add that subsequently, when he was jailed in Venezuela, German authorities tried to get money to him so he could bribe his way out. He was denounced in the Venezuelan Congress as a German agent with an international record.5

Their memorandum also included evidence against Wesemann from American military intelligence sources that accused him of “forming storm troop groups in every South American country,” and “supplying them with arms and money.” 6 Further, it was alleged that “the alien” was “the very heart of a network of espionage and sabotage spread over all of Latin America.” The source for this claim was, once again, the Strasser article, and it was admitted that “there has been no recent report corroborating these statements.” Note was taken of the fact that as early as 1944 Wesemann had displayed signs of contrition, and insisted that he had actually been a victim of circumstances. “The alien claims that he has been very angry with Germany because they did nothing for him in the Jacob case and because they would not let him return [to Germany] to see his mother.” 7 To help him frame his case, Wesemann engaged the legal services of George Charles Dix, a New York attorney who had gained a reputation for successfully representing unpopular defendants such as German enemy aliens.8 Born in Philadelphia on 25 November 1895, Dix was coincidentally two days older than Hans. During the First World War he had served with the American Expeditionary Force 109th Engineers, part of the 34th Division, and afterwards received a Bachelor of Arts degree in economics from the University of Arizona at Tucson. Following graduation, he entered the law school at Arizona, but after one year decided to transfer to Northwestern University at Evanston, Illinois, where he completed his legal training. By 1938 he was practicing in New York City, and

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was identified as either pro-German or willing to help German-Americans. In February 1946 Dix approached the Venezuelan Embassy in Washington to see whether they would be willing to allow Hans and Carmen Wesemann to return to Caracas, and was told that there would be no objection to this.9 Therefore, when Wesemann and his counsel appeared before the Hearing Board on 19 March, their strategy was calculated with this goal in mind. The board which heard the case was composed of Louis Henkin, Daniel G. Tenney, and James D. Bell.10 At the outset, they were addressed at some length by Wesemann himself. After tracing his life until he left Germany in 1933, Wesemann pointed out that he was no friend of National Socialism, as shown by his anti-Nazi articles in Die Welt am Montag which outraged the Nazis and induced them to sue him. It happened Hitler held his first party meeting in Berlin. . . . I went through with the other people; I had never seen him or heard him—I described it in a very sarcastic way and I was surprised after eight days came a letter from the Braunes Haus. This letter was signed by a lawyer for Hitler, Dr. Hans Frank, and Dr. Hans Frank summoned me—sued me first for slandering and ridiculing Hitler, and also sued the editor of the newspaper, a Mr. Herring—the publisher. The editor—he is dead now about five years. . . . I had a lawyer—he was a friend of mine—Dr. Moritz Rigelhaupt . . . the suit was rejected in Munich and Hitler had to pay all the costs.11

As for his recruitment by the Gestapo, Wesemann explained that Marschall von Bieberstein at the German Embassy had indeed secured a one-year extension of his passport, but under certain conditions prescribed by Dr. Richter of the Gestapo. Implicit had been the fact that it would be denied if he refused to go to Berlin to meet with Richter. He was also warned, “You must not forget that after all you are not alone; you have some people [back in Germany].” 12 Wesemann divulged his astonishment at Richter’s invitation to work for the Gestapo as a decoy to entrap traitors like Jacob. Calculating that certain of his assertions were unverifiable, Wesemann claimed that the German government had covered neither Dr. Kramer’s expenses in defending him in 1935–1936, nor had he been provided with financial help upon his release from prison in 1938. He added that his passage to Venezuela had been paid for by his fiancée, and his other monetary needs had been met by his aunt.13 Clearly he had been coached by his lawyer, Dix, to say whatever distanced him from the Nazis, since this point was crucial in convincing the Hearing Board to decide in his favor. Following this line of argument,

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Wesemann alleged that ever since his arrest by the Swiss in March of 1935 he had been deserted by the Nazis, and was angered by their treatment of him. Furthermore, he bemoaned the lack of news from his parents, which he blamed on Nazi censorhip of his mail. My aunt wrote me a letter—she was ninety years old when she died—she said that she had heard from a man who called himself Dr. Richter and “he spoke about you and he warned you to be careful,” or things like that, “because they are very angry with you,” and she said—“the German government is very angry because you told everything and because Jacob was thereby released.” 14

Recounting his arrival in Venezuela, he justified going to the German Embassy as something any German newly-arrived in a foreign country would do. He emphasized that both Consul Hammerschmidt and Ambassador Poensgen had acted very coolly toward him. The Ambassador’s first words to him were, “Yes, I know all about you; it is very unpleasant to have you here. I tell you that I, of course, won’t have anything to do with your case.” 15 As in this instance, he varied his account, using accurate statements when they suited his purpose. He confirmed that Ambassador Poensgen had been told by the German Foreign Ministry that the Gestapo wanted nothing more to do with him, which was indeed true, but it also served to reinforce his contention that he had completely cut his ties with the organization. To explain why he returned repeatedly to the Embassy in Caracas, Wesemann reminded the board that he needed a residence permit. He also told them that he had been dismayed by a letter he received from a German exile three months after he arrived in Venezuela, warning him to behave himself or his past crimes would be exposed; one of his visits was to seek advice from Consul Hammerschmidt as to how to handle this threat. Sensing that thusfar he had been unable to impress the board, he described his periodic meetings at the Embassy as courtesy calls, but insisted that he never used them to transmit information. He vented his indignation at being summarily arrested by the Venezuelan police, incarcerated for about three weeks, and then released on condition that he depart from the country. Concerning his time in Nicaragua, he admitted that he had socialized with Germans there. For instance, he met with the German diplomat Donckers on five or six occasions. He also acknowledged traveling around Nicaragua in the company of Paul Strobelt before they became estranged, and admitted meeting with Eschner five or six times, once when Strobelt confessed that he worked for the Gestapo. When asked about

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William Frank Guiterrez, Wesemann denied asking him to do favors or paying him for special services.16 Following Hans’s interrogation and response, Carmen was questioned briefly. She confirmed Strobelt’s offer to bribe the jailers to gain her husband’s release from jail, and described how the plan was thwarted by the Venezuelan authorities. Weeks of agonizing delay followed the conclusion of the hearing. The board eventually rendered its conclusions in a report drafted by its chairman, Louis Henkin.17 It began by acknowledging that Wesemann had never been a member of the Nazi Party, and that prior to the Nazis coming to power he had written a number of anti-Nazi articles which were published in both Europe and Latin America. However, once he had been recruited by the Gestapo, “he allowed himself to be trapped into the kidnapping of a refugee writer in Switzerland, who had been attacking Germany.” Although Wesemann claimed that he had not received any fi nancial help from the Germans during or after his Swiss imprisonment, their other sources contradicted him. Wesemann’s case was notorious; it was spread all over the Swiss press, and wherever he went in Latin America, the story followed him. It made good copy every once in a while and the local papers played it up for all it was worth. There are reports of unknown reliability to the effect that he was the head of the Gestapo in Venezuela, and later in Nicaragua. There is no real evidence to substantiate these reports and it is possible that Wesemann was merely the victim of a past that continued to plague him. Naturally all he did was viewed with suspicion. I could view his circumstances with a certain amount of sympathy, if at least the alien had had the good sense to stay away from all German officials. It seems clear, however, that although the Gestapo might have decided he was worthless to them in view of his reputation, Wesemann nevertheless continued friendly relations with the Minister and the Consul in Venezuela, and later with the German officials in Nicaragua. Apparently he still considered himself a good German, despite the experience he had suffered, and saw no objection to casting suspicion upon himself by associating with German officials.18

Henkin acknowledged that “both Venezuela and Nicaragua will not prevent him from returning to either of those countries,” but stipulated that the law was clear: Wesemann had not severed his connections with the Third Reich, and therefore could not be regarded as a refugee from Nazi tyranny. Leaving no doubt whatsoever, Henkin added, “Wesemann is a clear Class A case, for which we allow no mitigation whatsoever. Moreover I am not entirely convinced by his defense, by either the excuse of coercion or the subsequent dissociation.” As a consequence, the Hear ing Board recommended that Wesemann be sent back to Germany in con-

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formity with the provisions of the Enemy Alien Act. Their report was sent to Spruille Braden, the Assistant Secretary of State for American Republic Affairs, for review and final approval by the U.S. State Department. Braden also found the evidence against Wesemann compelling, and concurred with Henkin’s recommendation to go forward with a deportation order for Wesemann. Notwithstanding this disappointment, George Dix extended his search for support for Wesemann into an untried arena. Clare Booth Luce was a relatively new Congresswoman in Washington with a history of interest in world affairs, having been a foreign correspondent for Life magazine. Moreover, she was married to the publisher of the widely read news magazine, Time. Dix wrote to her and explained that Wesemann was a German internee who was being deported back to Germany by the U.S. government in spite of the fact that he was married to a Venezuelan who wanted him to return to her country with her.19 Representative Luce agreed to look into Wesemann’s case, and forthwith contacted the State Department. At about the same time, Carmen Wesemann’s sister in Caracas, Josefina Hernandez, implored Louis Henkin, chairman of Wesemann’s Hearing Board, to intercede in Carmen’s behalf and allow her to return, together with her husband, to Venezuela or Nicaragua.20 In time both these intercessions were answered. Luce and Hernandez were informed that Wesemann did not qualify for release to a Central or South American state, but was required under American law to be sent back to Germany. This verdict was underscored by a formal “removal” order issued by the United States Department of State on 18 July 1946, and implemented by the Immigration and Naturalization Service. Meanwhile, Dix was also defending other enemy aliens from deportation orders, and among his clients was Hans Alfred von Heymann, an internee from the East German town of Leislau in Saxony. Since his case and Wesemann’s became inextricably entangled, they need to be considered in tandem. Heymann was born on 12 January 1909. At the outbreak of war in Europe he took refuge in Costa Rica, and a few months after the United States was attacked by Japan, he was arrested there, but not until 1943 was he sent to the United States and interned at Camp Kenedy, Texas. When the Germans surrendered in Europe in the summer of 1945 he was transferred briefly to Fort Lincoln at Bismarck, North Dakota, and then was sent to Ellis Island, the renowned retention center for immigrants in New York harbor. From there he was scheduled for imminent deportation.21 The hand of the United States government was greatly strengthened in its power to force German nationals to return to their homeland by a deci-

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sion reached in Mexico City in February and March 1945. At an inter-American conference, the Latin American states agreed not to grant entry visas to enemy aliens currently interned in the United States. This could have had a different impact on Wesemann because he was married to a Venezuelan, but for von Heymann it seemed definitive. However, George Dix put the brakes on any precipitate action by applying to the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York for a writ of habeas corpus for von Heymann. Although this was denied by Justice Robert Nevin, he nevertheless allowed Dix to appeal to the Second Circuit Court, at the same time enjoining the Justice Department not to proceed with deportation orders pending their decision.22 This directive deterred the Immigration and Naturalization Service for a while, but eventually they decided to act, contending that enemy aliens had entered the United States without valid visas, and therefore were subject to deportation just like any other illegal immigrant. The fact that most of the internees had been sent to America against their will was ignored. Meanwhile, Wesemann was granted parole and permitted to leave Crystal City in order to go to New York City to consult with Dix and his partner, David S. Kumble. He and Carman took up temporary residence at the Rutledge Hotel on Lexington Avenue, a welcome respite for them both after years of confinement in Texas internment camps. Hans spent almost every day at the New York Public Library, feverishly scanning newspapers and books, hoping to find evidence which would support his claim that he was neither a friend of Nazi Germany nor had collaborated with the Third Reich in Venezuela, and deserved to be treated as a refugee rather than as an enemy alien. Fearing that Wesemann and his lawyers might indeed discover evidence at the library which would undermine the government’s position if submitted to a court of law, the State Department asked Thomas M. Cooley, head of the Alien Enemy Control Unit, to determine precisely what Wesemann was researching. Realizing the delicacy of this task, Cooley contacted J. Edgar Hoover at FBI headquarters in Washington. Consultations ensued between the New York and Washington offices of the FBI concerning the likelihood of finding this information quietly and secretly, and it was decided that even if librarians would cooperate, it would be impossible to trace all of the materials Wesemann had examined.23 As a further delaying tactic, Dix applied for a second writ of habeas corpus from the United States District Court, Southern District of New York, on 1 November 1946, this time in behalf of Wesemann. He then dispatched this to Dean Acheson, Under-Secretary of State, with a copy to W. Frank Watkins, Immigration and Naturalization Director for the New

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York District. This move was calculated to deter Watkins from releasing Wesemann from internment and almost certain deportation to Germany in the face of orders already promulgated by the State Department. Dix offered the following justification for requesting a writ of habeas corpus for Wesemann. “No cause or reason for such detention or restraint has ever been stated to relator [Wesemann] other than he is a German national and therefore subject to detention and removal to Germany.” 24 He then reviewed the circumstances under which his client had been brought to the United States in 1942 and interned, and argued that sending Wesemann back to Germany rather than allowing him to return to his previous residence in Latin America repudiated agreements between the United States and Panama (1939), Havana (1940), and Rio de Janeiro (1942). After the declaration of war in December 1941 the United States State Department prepared and submitted to the governments of the Latin American republics lists of names of persons domiciled there claiming they were “potentially dangerous” and demanded that said persons be turned over to it for removal to and detention in the United States during hostilities under agreement that said persons would be returned to their respective domiciles after termination of actual hostilities.25

Dix then repeated the litany of reasons why Wesemann should be regarded as a bona fide emigrant from Germany, and not an agent provocateur. “Relator [Wesemann], though an Axis national, was not used by the German government in the Americas for purposes of political attack or for any other purposes. On the contrary, he was decidedly persona non grata with the Hitler government,” as shown by his ridiculing of Hitler in a fictitious interview with him; the unsuccessful efforts by the Nazis to sue Wesemann and Die Welt am Montag, and Goebbels’ threats to Wesemann in the columns of Der Angriff. Absent from the petition was any reference to Wesemann’s employment by the Gestapo, or his imprisonment in Switzerland following the kidnapping of Berthold Jacob. The hearing for a writ of habeas corpus came before the District Court Judge on 26 November 1946, but the decision was presumably delayed pending the outcome of von Heymann’s case before the Second Court of Appeals in early December. In the meantime, Hans and Carmen savored their freedom in New York until they had to return to Crystal City at their own expense. On 17 January 1947 Circuit Court Justices Learned Hand, Harrie B. Chase, and Jerome Frank rendered their opinion in Heymann v. Watkins.26 The court acknowledged that the United States government had the right to intern enemy aliens by virtue of Section 21 of the Alien and Sedition Act of 1798. This was further supported by a Presidential

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Proclamation rendered on 8 December 1941 authorizing internments in circumstances of a national emergency. Both the Statute and the Proclamation presupposed that aliens would be released voluntarily to American agents who would oversee their removal to the United States and their subsequent imprisonment. More precisely, it was assumed that the Central American states were justified in arresting and detaining suspicious individuals, and then deporting them to the United States. Before these aliens were released to American representatives, they could not claim the protection of a United States court, but once interned, they could seek remedies from American courts. What really mattered to Wesemann and von Heymann and other internees was the way they would be dealt with by the U.S. State Department and the Immigration and Naturalization Service. A Presidential Proclamation of 8 September 1945 reflected the terms previously enumerated at the conference of Western Hemispheric states held in Mexico City in February and March 1945. All alien enemies now within the continental limits of the United States who were sent here from other American republics for restraint and repatriation pursuant in international commitments of the United States government and for the security of the United States and its associated powers and who are within the territory of the United States without admission under the immigration laws are, if their continued residence in the Western Hemisphere is deemed by the Secretary of State prejudicial to the future security or welfare of the Americas as prescribed in resolution VII of the inter-American conference on Problems of War and Peace, subject upon the order of the Secretary of State to removal to destinations outside the limits of the Western Hemisphere in territory of the enemy governments to which or to the principles of which they have adhered.27

This proclamation was challenged by the justices of the Circuit Court on 17 January 1947. In their opinion they stated that alien enemies no longer posed a threat to the security of the United States, and should therefore be free to depart and go to whichever foreign country would receive them; if they failed to leave American soil within a reasonable time, however, the Immigration and Naturalization Service would be justified in forcing them to return to their native countries. For Dix, this meant that his tactic of petitioning for a writ of habeas corpus for von Heymann had achieved its purpose, and he and his partner Kumble immediately went about securing the writ from Justice Murray Hulbert. At the same time they cited INS director Watkins in contempt for disregarding Justice Nevin’s order of 4 April 1946 not to proceed with deportation orders pending von Heymann’s appeal to the Circuit Court.28 Judge Hulbert willingly authorized the issuance of writs of habeas corpus

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to von Heymann and other refugees, provided they voluntarily left the United States within sixty days. Not surprisingly, he denied Kumble’s motion to find the Immigration and Naturalization Service in contempt of court.29 On 26 February 1947 Hans was also granted a writ of habeas corpus as a result of the Circuit Court decision of 17 January in the von Heymann case.30 Normally Wesemann and von Heymann should have been able to leave the United States shortly after this ruling, but it soon became apparent that no Latin American country would grant visas to anyone who had been designated an enemy alien. The U.S. State Department took the position that the inter-American agreement which had been reached back in February and March 1945 at the conference on Problems of War and Peace in Mexico City did not force the Latin American states to do anything contrary to their own perceived free and sovereign will. Thus, more than a year after the writs of habeas corpus were granted, Wesemann still waited while the United States courts debated how to resolve the question of deporting enemy aliens.31 In decisions of 13 February and 11 March 1948 the District Court finally ordered the Immigration and Naturalization Service to honor their writs of habeas corpus. A few days later the United States District Attorney for New York, John F. X. McGohey, agreed to abide by the von Heymann decision and apply it to the case of Wesemann v. Watkins as well.32 On 2 April 1948 the District Court formally ordered the release of all enemy aliens, putting an end to the very long and bitter struggle by Dix and Kumble on behalf of Wesemann and von Heymann. To their dismay, just as their cases seemed to be put to rest, District Attorney McGohey asked leave to appeal them to the Circuit Court. However, on 10 June, without giving any reason for doing so, he withdrew his petition. Along with many other internees, Hans and Carmen Wesemann once again had to face an uncertain future filled with daunting challenges.33

NOTES 1. Memorandum prepared by the Justice Department for the Hearing Board concerned with Wesemann’s case, 2 January 1946; National Archives, Special War Problems Division, Box 50. 2. The FBI memorandum is undated, while those from the Justice Department are dated 2 and 7 January 1946. All three documents can be found in Box 50 of the Special War Problems Division, National Archives. 3. Ibid., report of 2 January 1946. 4. Memorandum of 7 January 1946. 5. Ibid.

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6. Ibid. 7. Ibid. 8. By 1946 the law office of George C. Dix was located at 60 Wall Street, and he was reputed to have handled as many as 325 civil rights cases before, during, and after the war, and to have won them all. 9. Hearing Board of the Alien Enemy Control Section of the Department of State, 19 March 1946, National Archives, Special War Problems Division, Box 6, p. 58. 10. Ibid. From a transcript of the proceedings before the Hearing Board, 19 March 1946. 11. Ibid., p. 8. 12. Ibid., pp. 10–12. 13. Ibid., pp. 21–22. 14. Ibid., p. 24. 15. Ibid., p. 25. 16. Ibid., pp. 48–49. 17. The conclusions of the Hearing Board are contained in Box 50 of the Special War Problems Division, National Archives. They are not dated, but were released sometime in April or May 1946. 18. Ibid. 19. Dix to Luce, 26 June 1946, ibid. 20. Hernandez to Henkin, 2 July 1946, ibid. 21. U.S. Department of Justice: name index to Record Group 60 and von Heymann Case, Fort Lincoln, File Number 4290/4051, National Archives. 22. Nevin denied Dix’s application for a writ of habeas corpus for von Heymann in February 1946. See the affidavit of Dix’s law partner, David S. Kumble, 28 January 1947; Federal Archives, Bayonne, New Jersey. The von Heymann case is identified as Civ. Number 33/617. 23. Cooley to Hoover, 11 October 1946; J. M. Munford to D. N. Ladd, 22 October 1946; FBI to Cooley, 6 November 1946; FBI File Numbers 65–44014–5 and 65–44014–6. 24. Wesemann v. Watkins and Acheson, 1 November 1946: Federal Archives, Bayonne, New Jersey, Civ. Number 38/525. See also: Dix to Acheson, 1 November 1946, and Acheson to U.S. Attorney General, 12 November 1946: National Archives, Diplomatic Branch, Decimal File 711.62115a. 25. Ibid. 26. Heymann v. Watkins, 17 January 1947: Federal Reporter, 2d Series, pp. 650–653. The appeal is cited as Number 65, Docket 20332. 27. Ibid. 28. Affidavit of D. S. Kumble, 28 January 1947, Federal Archives, Bayonne, New Jersey. 29. Hulbert’s rulings of 4 February 1947, ibid. 30. Ibid. 31. State Department to U.S. Attorney General, 21 October 1947; motion by John F. X. McGohey, U.S. District Attorney for New York, before the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York, 15 October 1947; amended motion by Harold J. Raby, Assistant U.S. District Attorney, 8 March 1948: Federal Archives, Bayonne, New Jersey.

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32. District Court ruling, 11 March 1948; Dix-McGohey agreement, 15 March 1948, ibid. 33. Petitions of 4 May and 10 June 1948, ibid.

EPILOGUE, 1948–1971 When Hans was released, he and Carmen were at last free to leave the United States, although they now faced a difficult and awkward problem: where to go in order for him to find gainful employment where his past would not be discovered and used against him. Given his previous deportation from Venezuela, it was unlikely that the authorities would welcome him there. More promising was Argentina, where Germans had traditionally found refuge, and former Nazis were granted indefinite asylum. It is our conjecture that initially he emigrated to Argentina because we know that he was there long enough to become a naturalized Argentinean.1 However, there were several other stories locating him elsewhere. In the summer of 1947, the emigrant newspaper, Aufbau, reported that Hans had been spotted in New York City. This may have been on one of two occasions when he was permitted to leave Texas in order to confer with his New York lawyers: once in November 1946, and again in March 1947. No mention was made in the article that he had been interned as an enemy alien in the United States for the past five years, and was still not a free agent.2 At about this same time, a Berlin newspaper claimed that after his release from a Swiss prison in 1938 Wesemann returned to Germany and resumed his work for the Gestapo, devoting himself to tracking anti-Nazi refugees abroad during the war; afterwards he disappeared for awhile and resurfaced in Western Europe, impersonating a Jew by the name of

174

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Bergmann who had escaped from a concentration camp. Adopting this name, he secured a visa to enter the United States, and successfully disappeared, avoiding detection by American officials.3 By far the most curious account of Wesemann’s whereabouts after his release from American internment is a document that bears all the signs of the Cold War. According to a U.S. Department of the Army file dated 4 May 1949, Wesemann was turned from being a Gestapo agent into a Soviet spy. Secret—Subject: former KPD [German Communist Party] and CU-apparat personalities—Hans Wesemann, a native of Berlin, date of birth about 1895, about 6 feet 6 inches tall. Covered the League of Nations in Geneva, from 1928–1933 as a reporter for the SPD periodical “Vorwaerts,” then went to London where he worked for the “Reynold News” [sic], allegedly a Fellow-Traveling paper. Before 1933 was an official member of the SPD, but definitely tended toward Communism. During the war was involved in an Abwehr (German Intelligence) plot to abduct Berthold Jakob, an anti-Nazi leader in France. According to reports in the New York City paper “Der Aufbau,” Wesemann was seen in New York City about January 1949 and was immediately reported by German Emigrants to the police. It is not known that he has been found. He is undoubtedly working now, as he did before, with the [Soviet] GPU. The attempt to abduct Jakob is to be interpreted that way, since Jakob was opposed to the Comintern.4

One other witness reported that as late as 1958 there were rumors that Wesemann was a radio broadcaster in Cologne.5 From surviving written and oral testimony, further information emerges. Writing from Caracas in 1960, Wesemann asked his former Swiss lawyer, Hans Kramer, whether there was some way to have his 1936 conviction expunged from the Swiss records in view of having received a pardon from President Truman.6 Since there is no evidence of a pardon, Wesemann must have been referring to the von Heymann decision of 1948. Kramer replied that the official Swiss record had to stand, but that under certain circumstances Wesemann might apply for a formal “rehabilitation.” Apparently, Hans never pursued this suggestion. During the decade of the sixties, we assume that Carmen and Hans lived in Caracas in an apartment at number 19 Avenida Bolivia in the section of town known as Los Caubos.7 Hans was employed as a teacher, and family lore maintains that Carmen suffered a stroke, was paralyzed for several years, and then died.8 In his 75th year, Hans succumbed as a result of a cerebral hemorrhage at 9 A.M., 23 October 1971.9 He was a patient in the University Hospital in the parish of Santa Rosalia, and was buried on 24 October in the Southern General Cemetery of Caracas.

Epilogue

175

Juan Bautista Mata, presumably the doctor attending him, reported Hans’s death, and the certificate was witnessed by Heinrich Hausen and Kurt Wesemann. It lists his Christian names as Federico Guillermo Juan. Even when these are converted to their German equivalents, Friedrich Wilhelm Johannes, there is no mention of the name he always used: Hans, a diminuitive form of Johannes. Only on one previous occasion had he used his formal name Johannes: when applying to the Venezeulan police in July 1940 for a certificate attesting to his lack of a criminal record. Later, when he left Argentina for Venezuela in the 1950s, he may have intentionally altered his name in order to bury his past. However, the death certificate leaves no doubt that it was Hans’s. Following the practice in Latin America, it states his mother’s maiden name as well as his surname, identifying him as Wesemann-Haars, son of Frederico and Margarita Haars Wesemann, both deceased; and he is described as a widower, husband of Carmen Hernandez de Wesemann. The witness named “Kurt Wesemann” on the death certificate natu rally raises the question of this man’s relationship to Hans, since Carmen and Hans had no children. Kurt Fritz Wesemann was, in fact, a nephew, the son of Hans’s younger brother, Friedrich Karl. Kurt was born in the naval facility at Kiel on 24 April 1927. In 1951 Kurt emigrated to Caracas, but saw little of Hans because of what he had heard from the family about his uncle’s tarnished reputation. Friedrich’s ambition had always been to become a German naval captain, which resulted in his distancing himself from his brother, Hans.10 Thus, his son Kurt grew up not knowing much about his uncle. A year or two before Hans died he met Kurt’s son, Fredrik, then a child of about five years old. Fredrik dimly recollects that meeting, but was never told the story of his great uncle’s peripatetic and complex life. The family name still survives today in Caracas as WESCO, a firm of accountants presided over by Fredrik Wesemann.11 Hans’s despicable activities for Nazi Germany from May 1934 to March 1935 certainly colored the rest of his life: three years in a Swiss prison followed by six more years in American internment camps. From the spring of 1933 onward, he lived the life of a political exile, returning only briefly to his homeland in August 1934, and he never saw his parents and siblings again. Throughout, he was acutely aware of having brought ultimate disgrace on his family. Whether he and Carmen ever found tranquility and comfort in their latter years is an open question. NOTES 1. Document #1388 in the Register of Deaths in the Parish of Santa Rosalia, Caracas.

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2. Der Aufbau, 15 Aug. 1947, as cited in C. Brinson, “The Gestapo and the German Political Exiles in Britain during the 1930s,” German Life and Letters, LI (Jan. 1998), p. 64. 3. Der Telegraf (Berlin), 10 July 1947. 4. U.S. Department of the Army, War Department document XI-670.206, released under the Freedom of Information Act. 5. According to a letter from Prof. Dr. Wolfgang Wesemann to J. J. Barnes, there was a well-known radio journalist in West Germany during the 1950s whose name was Dr. Hans Otto Wesemann. To his knowledge, Wolfgang Wesemann is not a relative of either the radio broadcaster or the Hans Wesemann in this biography. See also Brinson, “The Gestapo,” p. 64. 6. J. N. Willi, Der Fall Jakob-Wesemann, 1935–1936 (Berlin: Peter Lang, 1972), p. 114. 7. This is the address given on his death certificate. 8. Telephone conversation between J. J. Barnes and Fredrik Wesemann, 12 Mar. 1998. 9. Death certificate of Hans Wesemann, Register of Deaths, Parish of Santa Rosalia, Caracas; certified by the Director of Cemeteries in Caracas as found in the register of persons interred in 1971. 10. Friedrich succeeded in becoming a Captain in the German navy, and retired to Detmold where he died 30 Nov. 1974. 11. James J. Barnes to Fredrik Wesemann, 20 Feb., 10 Mar., and 17 Mar. 1998. Wesemann to Barnes, 10 Mar., 13 Mar., and 16 Mar. 1998.

INDEX Note: Some surnames appear without initials or first names because they could not be ascertained. Acheson, Dean, 166, 170 n.24 Ahrens, Herbert, 121 Aldendorff, Fräulein, 27 Allworth, Elizabeth, 96 Angell, Sir Norman, 34 Aschner, 76 Astor, Lady, 34, 38–39 Attlee, Clement, 33–34 Auer, Theodor M., 57, 122 Bailey, Gerald, 54 Baker, Josephine, 13 Balleng, Carl, 52, 64–66, 69 n.49, 71, 77, 108, 114, 121 Balleng, Käthe, 52, 64–65, 114 Bartsch, Heinrich, 87, 114 Baskerville, Mrs., 26, 122 Bassman, Herr, 6 Bauman, Gerhart, 14 Baxter, C.W., 109, 116

Becker, Dr. (pseud.). See Richter, Walter Bell, Bishop George, 39, 48 Bell, George, 114 Bell, Georg Emil, 86 Bell, James D., 162 Benz, Arthur, 26–27, 47 n.4 Bergmann, 174 Berle, Adolf, 149, 151 n.23 Bernhard, Georg, 30, 103–105, 110, 116 nn.2, 8 Bernstein, Sidney, 113 Best, Dr. Werner, 128, 136, 138 n.8 Bieberstein. See Marschall von Bieberstein, Adolf Bielfeld, Harald, 51–52, 67 nn.2, 3, 9, 122, 124–126, 129 n.15 Bismarck, Prince Otto von, 32, 38, 47 n.22, 48 nn.31, 37, 39, 41, 52–53, 67 nn.2, 3, 7, 114–115, 117 nn.43, 49, 126

178

Blohm, Heinz, 149 Blum, Leon, 30 Blumenthal, 153 Bochow, 112 Bonhöffer, Dietrich, 48 n.40 Bose, Fritz von, 111, 117 n.35 Braden, Spruille, 165 Brailsford, R. N., 34 Brammer, Georg, 147 Braun, Ernst, 55, 87, 114 Braun, Max, 36, 39, 55–56, 67 n.18, 108, 110, 114–115 Breitscheid, Rudolf, 28, 35, 105, 133 Brinson, Charmian, 48 n.29, 100 n.1, 176 n.2 Brockway, Fenner, 95–96, 99 Brodard, Josephine, 132 Brown, Isabelle, 106, 116 n.12 Bruning, Heinrich, 17, 20, 107–108 Buch, Major Walter, 58 Buettner, Kurt, 90 Bülow-Schwanten, Vicco K.A. von, 38, 48 n.36, 49 n.57, 66, 69 n.54, 123–128, nn.4, 6, 11–13, 129 nn.18–19, 21, 24 Bunge, Franz, 146 Campbell, Arthur William, 95 Canning, A., 100 n.7 Caro, Kurt M., 103–104, 116 n.2 Carter, H., 157 Cayzer, Sir Charles, 113 Chamberlain, Sir Austen, 35, 48 n.30 Chase, Justice Harrie B., 167 Chekov, Anton, 13 Chesterton, Ada Elizabeth, 114 Chichester, Bishop of (George Bell), 114 Cicero, Padre, 10 Citrine, Walter, v, 53, 65, 67 n.8, 69 n.53 Cockburn, Claud, 111–112 Cocks, Seymour, 114–115 Colvin, Ian, 145, 151 n.10 Comert, M., 37

Index

Conrad, Paul, 86 Contreras, General Elizar Lopez, 140 Coogan, Jackie, 7 Cooley, Thomas M., 166, 170 n.23 Courths-Mahler, Hedwig, 7 Creswell, M. J., 108, 116 n.20, 117 n.31 Crisp, Mr. and Mrs. Oscar, 49 n.62, 60 Cubillan, General Aniceto, 143 Dämig, Ernst, 3 Danckers, Hugo, 146 Darrow, Clarence, 51 Deakin, Ralph, 60 Deschner, Gunther, 82 nn.4, 8, 91 n.15 Dix, George C., 161–162, 165–170 nn.8, 19, 22, 171 n.32 Dollfuss, Engelbert, 39 Donckers, 163 Dubner, 87 Duhr, Franz, 59, 68 n.35 Eckert, Max Rudolf, 87 Eksteins, M., 116 n.2 Ernst, Karl, 59 Eschner, 163 Everback, T., 157 Ewers, Else, 121 Faber, Dr. Karl Otto, 46, 49 n.61, 53, 55, 59–60 Fabian, Dora, 22, 93–101, 107, 109, 133 Fabian, Walter, 94, 96, 99 Fabiani, Charles A.M., 59, 68 n.34 Fairbanks, Douglas, Jr., 148 Farago, Ladislas, 143–146, 151 n.8 Feine, Gerhard, 46, 49 n.61 Fimmen, Edo, 52, 67 n.5 Fischel, Oskar, 4 Floto, Jobst H., 150 n.1 Foerster, Friedrich Wilhelm, 110 Foot, Dingle, 113

Index

Formis, Rudolf, 88–89, 91 n.14, 114 Fouquet, Eugene, 9–10 Fox, James, 48 n.40 Frank, Hans, 15, 162 Frank, Inspector (pseud.), 111–112 Frank, Justice Jerome, 167 Freund, Richard, 4 Friders, 3 Frodl, 87 Fuehr, Alexander, 43, 45, 49 n.57, 124 Ganz, Dr. Anton Roy, 47 nn.1, 5, 8–9, 48 n.46, 68 n.26, 80, 93–94, 96, 98, 100 n.7, 101 nn. 12, 16, 107, 113, 117 n.38, 120, 122, 131, 133 Gerlach, Helmut von, 15, 30, 33, 79, 104, 133 Gillies, William, v, 65, 69 n.53 Gilmour, Sir John, 113 Gliddon, 49 n.62 Goebbels, Josef, 16–19, 21, 25, 61, 167 Goetsch, Werner, 88–89 Gogol, Nikolai V., 13 Goldschmidt, Helmut, 27 Gollancz, Victor, 113 Gomez, Juan Vincente, 140 Göring, Hermann, 35, 38–39, 112 Gorky, Maxim, 13 Graes, Erich, 125 Graf, Christoph, 91 Granowsky, Alexis, 13 Grenfell, David, 66 Griffin, F.C., 151 n.12 Grimm, Wilhelm, 125–126 Gross, Babette, 35, 48 n.29 Gross, Fritz, 35, 48 n.29 Grossmann, Kurt R., 91 nn.8, 11, 13, 16, 92 nn. 18, 19 Gruchy, Charles Robin de, 27, 29, 41, 47–48 nn.47–49, 64, 108 Grzesinski, A.C., 91 n.7 Guenther, Erich, 147 Guillaume, Marcel, 47 n.6, 83 n.18

179

Guiterrez, William Frank, 164 Gumbel, Emil J., 28–29, 33 Günther, Anna Marie Elisabeth, 120 Günther, Wilhelm, 120 Gutierrez, Solon, 150 Güttler, Dora, 44, 49 n.58, 120–121 Gutzeit, Paul, 90 Gyssling, Walter, 54 Häberli, Emil, 80, 117 n.38, 131–132 Hafermalz, 149 Hailsham, Viscount, 32, 38, 40 Hallgarten, Georg Wolfgang, 57–58, 68 nn.28–29, 133 Hammerschmidt, Curt L.M., 141, 163 Hand, Justice Learned, 167 Hanfstaengl, Ernst, 40 Hanrion, Pierre, 59, 68 n.37 Hansen, Lauritz, 64 Hansen, Richard, 64 Hartmann, Erna, 107 Hausen, Heinrich, 175 Hausmann, Werner, 106–107 Havinden, Mrs., 83 n.10 Heinemann, Dora, 94 Heinemann, Hugo, 94 Heiss, Hans, 4 Hell, Major Hans, 86 Henderson, Arthur, 34, 137 Henkin, Louis, 162, 164–165, 170 n.20 Hennl, Karl, 87 Hering, Georg, 15 Hermann, Max, 4 Hernandez, Carmen. See Wesemann, Carmen Hernandez Hernandez, Josefina H. de, 165, 170 n.20 Herring, 162 Hesse, Helmut, 141, 148–149 Heydrich, Reinhard, 68 n.31, 72, 78, 89, 112, 123, 127–128, 135, 142, 144–145, 150 n.5 Heymann, Hans Alfred von, 165–169, 170 n.21, 174

180

Index

Jacob (Salomon), Berthold, 29–31, 39, 45, 47 nn.14, 16–17, 54–57, 65, 67 nn.13–16, 69 n.50, 71–83, 85, 91, 93, 96, 98, 103, 105–108, 110, 112–116, 116 n.7, 119, 121, 123–128, 128 n.2, 131, 133–136, 138, 141–142, 148, 154, 161–163, 167, 174 Jacob, Else, 72, 76, 79, 105, 114–115 Jacobs, Arthur, 157 n.8 Jacoby, Friedrich, 142 Jantzen, Hans, 4 Jaskiel, David, 36, 39, 48 n.32 Jempson, Frederick J., 80, 100 n.7 Jessen, Hartwig von, 149 Jessner, Leopold, 12–13 Jong, L. de, 151 n.11

Karlsbach, Edith, 88–89 Katz, Otto, 115 Kaul, Friedrich Karl, 153–154, 157 n.2 Kaye, Rita, 108 Keipert, Dr. Maria, 49 n.61 Kelen, Emery, 144 Kempner, Dr. Robert M.W., 76 Kerr, Alfred, 104–105 Kiaulehn, Walter, 76 Klatte, Paul Ernst, 13 Kleber, Hermann, 64 Klein, Liane, 106 Kleist, Heinrich von, 4 Klemke, 20 Klotz, Helmut, 54–55, 67 n.12, 110 Klug, 88 Klutjen, 6 Knipping, Hubert, 9 Knüppel, 6 Kohlberg, Werner, v, 47 n.4, 60–63, 67–68 nn.43–44, 46, 109, 116 n.27, 121, 125, 134; and wife, 62 Kohlmann, 114 Korsch, Karl, 96–100 Kortner, Fritz, 12 Kramer, Hans, 132, 135–136, 142, 162, 174 Krause, Gustav, 73, 76, 81, 82 n.4, 119, 122–123, 126, 128, 135 Krause, Rudolf, 60, 68 n.40 Krauss, Werner, 12 Krivitsky, Walter G., 143–145, 151 nn.12–13 Krogg, 147 Kronhausen, Eberhardt, 147 Krutschwitz, 90 Kuhn, 149 Kühn, Herta, 121 Kumble, David S., 166, 168–169, 170 nn.22, 28 Kummer, Fritz, 52, 55, 67 nn.6, 17, 71, 82 n.1

Kaehn, Walter, 114

Lackowitski, Kitty, 54

Himmler, Heinrich, 72, 112, 122–123, 127, 135 Hindenburg, Paul von, 43, 87 Hitler, Adolf, 5, 14–15, 17, 19, 20–21, 25, 33, 54, 61, 64, 71, 95, 114, 124–125, 127, 140, 149, 162, 167 Hitzemeyer, 73, 77, 108 Hitzemeyer, Charles, 46, 49, 61 Hitzemeyer, Walter, 46, 49, 61 Hitzemeyer, Werner, 26–27, 43, 45–46, 60–61, 120, 122 Hoesch, Leopold von, 40, 51, 67 n.11, 109, 124, 126, 128 n.10 Hoetzsch, Otto E.G., 4 Hoffman, Hans, 88 Hohne, Heinz, 91 Hoover, John Edgar, 149, 151 n.23, 166, 170 n.23 Hugh, Hector, 114 Hulbert, Justice Murray, 168, 170 n.29 Ihlefeld, Dr., 110 Imbusch, Heinrich, 55

Index

Ladd, D.N., 170 n. 23 Lammers, Hans Heinrich, 124, 127, 128 n.8, 129 n.22–23 Lampersberger, Josef, 89, 114 Lang, Archbishop Cosmo, 39 Laserstein, Botho, 71 Laski, Neville, 39 Ledebour, Georg, 3 Lee, Jennie, 95–96 Lefeuvre, Henri, 59, 68 n.36 Lehmann-Russbüldt, Otto, 28, 30, 32–33, 35, 37, 39, 47 n.17, 107, 116 n.17, 133 Lenin, Nikolai, 12 Leonhard, 87 Lessing, Ada, 114–115 Lessing, Professor Theodor, 87, 114 Lindquist, Helene, 65 Lippert, 87 Listowell, Earl, 40, 114 Lloyd George, Megan, 38 Löwenheim, Walter, 69 n.47 Luce, Clare Booth, 165, 170 n.19 Ludendorff, Erich F. W., 5, 14 Luther, Hans, 9–10 Lutzelschwab, Wilhelm, 116 n.27, 133 McGohey, John F.X., 169, 170 n.31, 171 n.32 McMaster, 39 Malet, Marion, 48 n.29 Mander, Geoffrey, 34, 137 Mann, Thomas, 21 Manz, Hans Joachim, 56–59, 62–63, 65, 68 nn.22, 31, 36, 71–76, 79–81, 82 n.5, 119, 121–123, 126, 128, 134–135, 137 Margerie, Arnold, 139–140, 149 Marley, Lord, 99, 113 Marschall von Bieberstein, Adolf, 38–39, 42–43, 46, 48 nn.34, 38, 49nn.52, 54–55, 57, 51, 60, 63, 68 n.42, 120, 122, 124–126, 129 n.15, 162

181

Martin, Kingsley, 113 Masaryk, Thomas, 33 Mata, Juan Bautista, 175 Matarazzo, Count, 11–12 Mattern (pseud. for Manz), 134 Maz, Alfred, 121 Meloney, Marie, 110 Meyer, Adolf, 8 Meyer, Ilse. See Wesemann, Ilse Middleton, James S., 34 Miles Group, 64 Minter, Arthur R., 80 Mombert, Paul, 4 Montagu, Ivor, 113–114, 117 n.42 Motta, Guiseppi, 127–128 Moutet and Blumel, 79 Muller, Adolf, 7 Müller, Bishop Ludwig, 39 Müller, Hans (alias Naujocks), 88–89, 91 n.15 Munford, J.M., 170 n.23 Münzenberg, Wilhelm, 16–17, 35, 37, 45, 105–106, 115, 116 nn.12–13, 135, 143–144 Mussolini, Benito, 11, 17, 21 Nash, John, 32 Nathan, Heinz-Alex, 99, 101 n.19, 110–112, 117 nn.34, 37 Naujocks, Alfred, 88–89, 91 n.15 Nedelke, 87 Neumann, Dr. Franz L., 30, 36, 48 n.31 Neurath, Konstantin von, 123–127, 128 nn.8–9, 12–13, 129 nn.19, 21–24 Nevin, Justice Robert, 166, 168, 170 n.22 Nicolai, Walter, 78 Olden, Rudolf, 57 Ossietzky, Carl von, 9, 30 Otto, Gustav (pseud.). See Krause, Gustav Ottolini, Jules, 59, 68 n.38

182

Papen, Franz von, 20, 111–112 Patschowsky, Günther, 72, 78, 122–123, 128, 129 n.26, 136 Pentzke, 146 Peter, Albert W., 146 Peter, Julius, 146 Peter, Oscar, 146 Peterson, Walter F., 115 n.1, 116 nn.2, 5 Philippsborn, Adolf, 110 Piper, Dr. Otto, 39 Piscator, Irwin, 13 Poensgen, Erwin, 141, 149, 163 Pohlberg, 27 Ponsonby, Baron, 34 Prestes, Alberto J.M. de C., 10–11 Priestley, John B., 114 Pritt, D.N., 113–115 Prost, Richard, 90 Protze, Traugott A.R., 143–145, 151 n.11 Pudowkin, Vsevolod, 13 Putlitz, Wolfgang Gans zu, 94, 100 n.7, 109 Raby, Harold J., 170 n.31 Rahnert, Alfred, 147, 149 Rau, Reinhold, 87 Raye, Miss (alias Rita Kaye), 108 Reimer, Erich, 121 Reiss, Adolf, 73, 127 Renata (perhaps pseud. for Lisa Stoll), 77–79, 83 n.10, 122, 132 Richter, Elisabeth Eckardt, 44 Richter, Heinrich, 44 Richter, Ursula Fritzsche, 44 Richter, Walter, 42, 44, 46, 49 n.59, 53–56, 58–59, 62–64, 71–73, 76, 78, 81, 83 n.13, 119–128, 135, 137–138, 142, 145, 161–163 Rigelhaupt, Moritz, 15, 162 Rockefeller, Nelson, 156, 158 n.12 Rodominsky, Wilhelm, 105, 107 Roethe, Gustav, 4

Index

Röhm, Ernst, 19, 21, 43, 54, 86–87 Roland, Romain, 7 Rosenfeld, Kurt, 51, 94 Rothschild, Baron, 39 Rotter, Alfred, 85–86, 114 Rotter, Fritz, 85–86 Rotter, Gertrude, 86, 114 Royden, Maude, 114–115 Rüter, Ernst H., 32–33, 35–36, 38–39, 42–43, 47 nn.22–24, 48 nn.28, 31, 35, 37, 39, 51, 53, 56–57, 120, 122, 125, 136, 138 n.6 Salomon, Hildegard, 79 Sander, Wilhelm, 41, 48 n.47 Sandmann, 149 Sandsteed, Gottfried, 148 Sargent, Orme, 114 Schacht, Dr. Hjalmar, 51 Schaper, Marie, 136 Scheidemann, Philipp, 64 Scherpenberg, Albert H. Van. See Van Scherpenberg, Albert Higler Schevenels, Walter, 53 Schiff, Victor, 7–8, 22 n.12, 40, 104, 110, 116 n.3, 133 Schleicher, Kurt von, 43, 87 Schlemann, Willi, 54 Schmeling, Max, 13, 21 Schmitz, John A., 157 n.11 Schneider, Edmond Georg, 4, 67 nn.6, 17, 82 n.1 Schräder/Schroeder, Paul/Rudolf (pseud. for Hans Wesemann), 105, 109, 121, 125 Schubert, Gerhart (alias for Werner Goetsch), 88–89 Schulenburg, Werner von der, 111 Schuschnigg, Kurt von, 142 Schwarz, Georg, 110 Schwarzschild, Leopold, 106 Schweizer, Gotthardt, 147 Seger, Frau Gerhart, 34, 39–41, 48 n.44

Index

Seger, Gerhart H., 33–35, 38–39, 41, 48 nn.26–27, 45, 86 Seifert, Martha, 41–42, 48 nn.48–49 Sender, Toni, 107 Sharkey, Jack, 13 Shiratory, 10 Sievers, Max, 107 Simon, Sir John, 108, 113–114 Sittel, 149 Smith, Rennie, 30, 35, 52 Snuverink, Klein, 90 Somoza, Anastasio, 146 Southwark, Bishop of, 47 n.18 Speyer, Bishop of, 58 Speyer, Rose, 8 Steed, Henry. See Wickham Steed, Henry Steinruck, Adelbert, 12 Stoll, Lisa, 77–79, 83 n.10, 122, 132 Strasser, Gregor, 148 Strasser, Otto, 54, 88, 114, 148, 150, 160–161 Stresemann, Gustav, 10 Strindberg, August, 12 Strobelt, Paul Ernst, 143, 146–147, 150–151 n.15, 160, 163–164 Strogmeyer, 20 Swaythling, Baron, 114 Tate, Henry Burton, 40 Tate, Mavis C., 40 Tenney, Daniel G., 162 Thompson, W.M., 113 Thomsen, Hans, 129 n.24 Toland, John, 22 Toller, Ernst, v, 5–6, 11–12, 94–95, 109–110, 116 nn.27–28, 133 Tolstoy, Leo, 13 Treviranus, Gottfried R., 107–108 Truman, Harry S., 157–158 n.13, 174 Tschirschky, Fritz von, 112 Turati, Filippo, 12 Untermeyer, Samuel, 35

183

Van Loon, Maud, 31, 47 n.21 Van Scherpenberg, Albert Hilger, 51, 67 n.1, 122, 126, 129 n.17 Vansittart, Sir Robert, 109, 115, 117 n.47 Waldman, L., 151 n.12 Wales, Edward Prince of, 39 Warburg, Dr. Gustav, 30, 54 Watkins, W. Frank, 166–168 Watts, B., 62 Webber, 114 Weber, 86 Wegener, Paul, 12 Weizsäcker, Ernst von, 127–128, 138 n.9, 141, 147, 150 n.2 Wels, Otto, 66 Wesemann, Carmen Hernandez, 31, 45, 53–54, 60, 135, 139, 142–143, 145–146, 150, 153–156, 157 n.9, 158 nn.12–13, 159, 162, 164–167, 169, 173–175 Wesemann, Fredrik, 175–176 n.8 Wesemann, Friedrich Karl, 175 Wesemann, Fritz, 1 Wesemann, Grete, 1 Wesemann, Hans Otto, 176 n.5 Wesemann, Ilse Meyer, 8, 27–29, 31, 57, 73, 77, 79, 83 n.11, 94, 103–108, 116 n.7, 133 Wesemann, Kurt, 175 Wesemann, Margarete Haars, 1, 132, 175 Wesemann, Sigrid, 1 Wesemann, Wolfgang, 176 n.5 Wickham Steed, Henry, 28, 30, 41, 105, 111, 121, 134 Wiegert, Otto, 13 Wienhold, Father Bernhard, 9, 22 n.17, 31, 47 Wigram, Ralph, 114, 117 n.44 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, 3 Wilkinson, Ellen, 94, 99, 113, 115

184

Willi, Jost N., 47 n.22, 49 n.51, 83 n.12, 128 n.2, 138 n.7, 150 n.4, 176 n.6 Witkop, Philipp, 4 Woermann, Ernst, 129 n.25 Wolf, Frau, 86 Wolff, Arthur, 79 Woodman, Dorothy, 113 Wurm, Emanuel, 95 Wurm, Mathilde Alder, 93–95, 97–99, 100 n.1, 101 n.18, 107

Index

X.Y., Herr (pseud. Hans Wesemann), 32, 38, 42 Yaskiel, David, 36, 39, 48 n.32 Ypsilanti, Signor, 15 Zinnser, Dr. Christian, 148 Zirker, Milly, 79 Zischka, Rudolf, 87

About the Authors JAMES J. BARNES is Professor of History at Wabash College in Crawfordsville, Indiana. He has collaborated with Patience Barnes on several articles and volumes to include Free Trade in Books: A Study of the London Book Trade since 1800; Authors, Publishers and Politicians: The Quest for an Anglo-American Copyright Agreement, 1851–54 ; and Hitler’s Mein Kampf in Britain and America, 1930–1939. PATIENCE P. BARNES is a Research Associate at Wabash College. She has co-authored numerous articles and books with James J. Barnes to include James Vincent Murphy: Translator and Interpreter of Fascist Europe 1880–1946 and Private and Confidential: Letters from British Ministers in Washington to the Foreign Secretaries in London, 1844–1867.