Holocaust Memorial Day thoughts

As we approach 27 January 2018, Holocaust Memorial Day, some thoughts and updates on the Ephraim-Neumeyer story.

Hans Neumeyer commemorations

A couple of events in Germany are featuring Hans Neumeyer’s life. On 25 January in Munich, Die Zukunft der Erinnerung is a project run by BLLV (www.bllv.de) for Bavarian schools commemorating Bavarian Jewish teachers that were victims of the Holocaust. Hans is one of the teachers who will be highlighted in a talk given by a student, and his music will be played at the ceremony. Violinen der Hoffnung (Violins of Hope) is a concert of music at Dachau’s Schloss (17 February) played on violins from the Weinstein family collection: these were entrusted to the Weinsteins by musicians deported to concentration camps – some instruments were even used in the camps themselves – including in Dachau. The violins have been restored by the Weinsteins and two movements from Hans Neumeyer’s trio will be played in a programme featuring Beethoven, Mozart, Mendelssohn, Bloch, Zipper, Suppé, Dvorak and Schumann.  Below is my note about Hans in the programme.

Tim Locke's programme note from Violins of Hope  concert in Dachau February 2018Screen Shot 2018-01-20 at 10.34.55

The Power of Words

Each year the Holocaust Memorial Day Trust has a different theme. This year it’s The Power of Words. I’ve put together a little exhibition at Lewes Library (on until 9 February), highlighting words and phrases that tell the family story.


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The themes highlighted are:

If I knew the world would end tomorrow I would still plant my apple tree today.

This quote from Martin Luther was written on a scrap of paper by my great grandfather Martin. While incarcerated at Theresienstadt concentration camp, he gave it to his friend Walter, who survived; Martin did not. Walter was a lawyer and after liberation became a public prosecutor of Nazis. He visited Auschwitz in this role and wrote on the same scrap of paper ‘This helped at Auschwitz’.

apple tree quote by M Ephraim to W Hirschberg_20171211_0001I was born here. I will die here too.

Martin was a steadfast German. Very patriotic but also very stubborn. His son tried to persuade him to emigrate to America in the early Hitler years (around 1934) but Martin refused: “I was born here”. Even as things closed in around him he couldn’t believe it: ‘Germans would never do a thing like that!’ he exclaimed.

The seasons will come again and we shall forever be part of the seasons, but here in Theresienstadt this isn’t happening.

Hans Neumeyer’s words shortly before his death in Theresienstadt concentration camp. He was a blind composer and music teacher but survived two years in the camp, giving music lessons in exchange for food.

Going on journey

“Going on journey, but cheerful and happy, healthy. Father same. Keep happy! Mother”: the last Red Cross message from my grandmother Vera to her family. She was bound for a concentration camp (probably Majdanek) in Poland. Messages like this were censored and what you could say was highly restricted: “Going on journey” was a recognised way of saying “Deportation”.

red-cross_veras-last-message-09-07-1942.jpgFarewell, I am in good spirits and well prepared for whatever happens

The last line of a letter Vera wrote while on the train bound for the concentration camp in Poland. We never heard from her again. We don’t know how this letter got delivered.

How dare you enter the house of a Jew?

In 1937 my mother, uncle and other children from Dachau were performing a play in their house, with friends and neighbours watching. Suddenly there was a hammering at the door: “How dare you enter the house of a Jew?”. SS men trooped in and shouted these words at everyone. The lodger was arrested and sent to Dachau Concentration Camp for a short spell (he never spoke about it when he returned). My mother said ‘That was the end of our plays’. And it was the end of her childhood.

plays in photo album6+ 2 Kinder

On the list of Jewish families living in Dachau were typed the names of my grandfather and grandmother, Hans and Vera Neumeyer. Some official had scribbled in the margin: + 2 Kinder (‘and two children’) – thus making sure that my mother Ruth and uncle Raimund would not escape the Nazis’ attentions.

Dachau cutting 4


We accept the noble-hearted offer of you brother and your sister-in-law with joyful relief. The contents of your last letter came to us as a light sent by God through the hopeless dark of the night around us.

The words Vera Neumeyer wrote when the Paish family in England agreed to take in my mother and uncle who travelled there on the Kindertransport programme.


The first word of Ruth’s diary entry on arriving in England, 12 May 1939, recording her breakfast with her newly adopted English family in Weybridge. And the first word of English in the diary. No great thoughts about this tumultuous happening. Just ‘cornflakes’. And a new life begins.

Diary entries May 1939

The 1939 diary in which Ruth records her journey dates to England. Can anyone decipher the writing?

How often we talked about you and how you are, and if we’d ever see each other again. We spent so many wonderful hours together at your house. To think that your lovely parents were killed by those beastly SS men! 

Please don’t blame all the Germans! We couldn’t do anything – we took no part in what happened. There are still lots of good people. Please write soon!

Frau Steurer, a family friend of the Neumeyers, writing from Dachau to Ruth and Raymond in 1946. She and her daughters are overjoyed to find the Neumeyer children are safe in England and urge them to come back to Dachau.


Exempt from Registration

The entry in red ink here at the bottom of the page in Raymond’s registration document states ‘Exempt from Registration’, marking the date he joined the British army. This was the first time he felt accepted by his adopted country. Previously he had to register with police each time he changed address, even if only temporarily; the book is crammed full of police stamps.

registration card p14-15

Footnote: the Bear departs

And an update on the Imperial War Museum: last week Jess, Lucy and James from the museum came to look at the archive, which will be taken in its entirety into the museum.  They’ve measured up specific items for display in the remodelled World War II and Holocaust galleries (opening 2020) and taken them to the museum. Here’s the farewell pic of Ruth’s teddy, brought over on the Kindertransport on 10 May 1939. In the conservation department he’ll be freeze dried, to get rid of any resident bugs, but after this initial humiliation will have a privileged retirement that will probably outlive all of us.


Words and photos ©Tim Locke


After the Kindertransport: the view from Munich, May–June 1939

I have in front of me a substantial pile of letters – some dated, others not – from Vera and Hans Neumeyer to their children (from my grandparents to my mother and uncle), the latter newly arrived via Kindertransport and starting new lives in England. Most are written in Vera’s neat handwriting. A handful are typed by the blind Hans. His typewriter ribbon is getting fainter with each successive letter. On one letter there’s hardly a character legible.

Though the letters are 78 years old, they’re red-hot news. I’ve never till this week got round to reading them: it’s a slow process, but I’m starting on the translation, hugely  helped by Jürgen from Gross-Gerau (the father of my cousin’s cousin) who’s transcribing them one by one, and giving lots of useful advice. There are over fifty in total, and so far he has done the first eight that are dated.

I’ve had a look ahead to July and learn that Vera is planning an escape to England by car with the Ephraims: more on that in a future post.

envelope from Vera 5 June 1939Suddenly Vera and Hans have a voice: there’s a new dimension to the story and they’ve come to life. We get the picture of everyday life at the Neumeyers, and even hints of Ruth and Raymond’s lives in England – as so much of the content of the children’s letters is referred to.

Read the letters in the original German

A pdf of the originals of this batch of letters can be viewed here: Vera’s letters dated 01

Hans wrote far less often: all his letters can be viewed here: Hans Neumeyer letters to children 1939

So here are the letters and postcards from May and June, partly edited (there are other undated letters which I’ve yet to translate; some of these may well fit in here):

11 May 1939  – after the Kindertransport train rolled away

This is the date Ruth and Raymond arrived in England. We learn that after saying goodbye to the children at Munich’s railway station, Hans and Vera realised they had forgot to give them some bread rolls they had brought for their journey. Then they walked back home and had tea.

From Hans:

My dear children! So here is the first greeting to my long-travelled ones. So this is what happened! After your train rolled away, we rolled away too. We went home on foot. Then we drank a little tea – ‘of course’, Mani [Raymond] will say.

Wednesday did not go until Leo appeared at half past ten in the morning. In the afternoon, In the evening I spoke to Dela [Dela Blakmar, Hans’ secretary] in Lucerne on the phone. She was very happy about your disappearance – yes, we’ve let you go! We are glad that you are fine so far and are looking forward to your further reports. All the best, my dear little ones and keep happy.



Screen Shot 2017-11-28 at 12.56.25

Hans, completely blind, typed all his letters and managed a squiggly signature.

From Vera; we do not know the identities of the friends referred to:

My beloved sparrows!

Now you have happily completed the great journey and are in the big country, where everything is new to you. Our thoughts are always with you. Today, your card came with the first post from Frankfurt and the second post brought your card from Cologne, as well as a letter from Käte Holler, in which she says how she was happy with you and how happy you are. She also sent enclosed greetings from Grossvati [Grandfather – Martin Ephraim], which he had sent to her to hand it to you; But that letter only arrived when she returned from the train, and so she sent it to me.

Mrs Nathan [presumably one of the Kindertransport administrators] phoned me to let me know that today you will have lunch at Harwich and arrive in London in the afternoon. I’m really looking forward to your reports. But first you have to sleep well!

This afternoon I will call you, then I go to the “Heidelinden”, to Mrs. Bergmann and to Helmuth.

I have a cold, otherwise all is fine. Yesterday, Leo came here to eat [more about Leo in the letter of 1 June 1939, when Vera reports that he’s going to Shanghai – so we can guess Leo was Jewish and had to flee]: we had scrambled eggs and salad, in the evening I ate the rest of the noodle soup, today we’re having rice with chives and in the evening whipped cream.

Yesterday I picked up my winter coat from the tailor who had done a good job on it.

When the train left I remembered I’d forgotten the rolls. I immediately thought that you would have got some fresh ones in Frankfurt.

A thousand greetings


13 May 1939: long-distance parenting

From Vera. The children are about to start school. There’s a reference to Clarisse and Walter, who we can assume were also children who had arrived on the Kindertransport. Lots of advice and long-distance parenting in evidence here:

My dear, good children!

I have received many messages from you; two arrived yesterday evening, and took less than 24 hours to get here; we’ve had one from Mrs Paish, who is very enthusiastic about you. You may already have news from Marie Oppenheim and Grete Marx; they would have liked to come to meet your train [the arrival of the Kindertransport at Liverpool Street], but it was only possible to get access with a special ID card, which is for guarantors only. Mrs Paish was told that that she should be at the train at 2.30: you had to wait quite a long time in the hall and hopefully did not get too hungry.

Good to hear that the luggage has come with you; so you have everything with you now. The strip on the big suitcase should soon be repositioned; it does not seem to last long.

Do not be shy and be prepared to talk! In 4 weeks you will be able to communicate well; but only if you really talk a lot and are not afraid of making mistakes.

Mrs Paish writes that the car unfortunately only drove through back streets of London; I am glad that you have already seen some of the famous buildings; surely you will soon see more of the city. I’ve also read the cards that Clarisse and Walter wrote home. The telegram that announced your happy arrival just arrived at when we were having our semolina soup on Thursday evening.

Too bad that I cannot get you any camera film. Can you get some there? How are you getting on sleeping in English beds? What is the food like?

Thank you very much for writing so nicely.  You do not need to write until Wednesday, then Mani can tell us about school and Ruthi about the lessons, etc. Do you get marks? In any case, I enclose a reply slip.

Always put your clothes and clothes neatly on the chair when you get undressed! If you do not need the new woollen blankets, please hand them over to Mrs. Eckhard for protection against moths.

A big kiss from me,

Your Mutti

Kindertransport suitcases

These cases travelled on the Kindertransport with Ruth and Raymond. Only recently did I notice remnants of luggage labels including the words ‘Hook [of Holland]’ and ‘Liverpool Street’

From Hans; the postal service between England and Germany was staggeringly fast in 1939 and was a source of wonderment:

We have been able to follow your journey very well. Your card, which arrived punctually, formed a lifeline that made us very happy. On Thursday evening, about half past nine we got the telegram of Mrs. Paish which brought great reassurance. We have now received a very loving and detailed letter from Mrs. P. and can now imagine a little how things are with you.

Your letter, which you sent to us on Thursday was a particularly nice surprise, because it came here so quickly  – as if it had known that it was so eagerly awaited; it arrived on Friday evening. Quite how that happened, I don’t understand.

So for now the sounds of English speech will be wafting across your peckers. Well, that will change soon enough. By the way, I can understand it very well, it would be no different for me either. I hope Raymond isn’t bursting because he wants to speak and nothing comes out. Dreadful, that sort of thing, isn’t it? 

It was nice of your luggage to follow in your footsteps. For that reason, you must handle your things well and be friendly with them. 

Here at home there is still nothing new, as the task of fishing out another part of my tooth is really nothing new at all – it belongs to the order of the day. But now it’s just once, and that’s it. Finish. I am very happy that I am not a shark, as I would be forced to tread all too often that lovely path to the ‘yanking animal’ [i.e. the dentist].

Dela has been back since yesterday afternoon and will prove it to you with a couple of handwritten lines. Goodbye my good people. Please greet your dear protectors and greetings to you.

From your Vati

15 May 1939: we can accompany you in spirit on your journey

From Vera (more marvelling at the speed of the post service; we learn that she is also sending over items such as an cake-icing syringe):

My beloved children! To think that your letter arrived on Sunday morning and was stamped in N. only on Saturday 4 clock in the afternoon)! This is faster than the post here goes from the suburbs to the city. The Doctor [one of several references to the ‘Doctor’ in these letters; maybe he was living with them?] thinks that all English mail is carried by plane (across the Channel), and otherwise this speed would be inexplicable. Anyway, I’m terribly happy that mail is arriving so quickly and I hope that this airmail letter will not be too long on the way.

Your reports are quite famous and have made us very happy. They have been read out at least four times, one has been forwarded by Grandfather to Tante Dodo and Tante Janni, one to Tante Betty, and Anna E. also read it at noon today. You write in such detail and so vividly that we can accompany you in spirit on your whole journey.

We see that everything went well on the way and that you had no opportunity to starve. The cabins must have been really nice, I can well imagine them according to your description and Ruth’s drawing. Why you’ve had to get up so early, when got off from the ship at 11.00, is not quite that strange to me. But the main thing is that you’re well rested and ready to face all the new, beautiful, if difficult, things with fresh energy. I know all these language difficulties from my own experience, but it will not be very long before it will be easier.

Am longing to know about the Eckhards and the beginning of the school!

Please tell me if you are given stamps.

I want you to keep in touch with the  Lesers [the family the Neumeyers lived with for a time in Munich; Ursula Leser was Ruth’s age and she,  her sister Annemie and her mother all came to England – Ursula and Ruth remained close friends throughout their lives] and Nathan. Just as I was with Helmuth today, the first letter from Walter and Clarisse came from P.

Incidentally, I address my letters alternately to each of you; of course, they are always meant for both of you.

It also seems to be pretty cold in England, because Ruthi had to warm her hands while writing.

It really surprised me that  you and all luggage fitted into a car. Have you taken any pictures yet? Yesterday I thought about you all the time, how you went to an English church for the first time. You need to get a hymn book. If you want anything or need anything translated, write to me.

I have found Ruthi’s cake icing syringe and the belt of her striped summer dress and send it to you. How many bars of chocolate have you eaten? And how are you getting on with English food?

Many thousands of greetings and kisses from Mutti.

Vera's signing off letter with a kiss

“Viele Küsse! Mutti” – Vera signs off a letter to the children with “lots of kisses”.


Anthony and Raymond 1939

Raymond (on the right) with Anthony Paish children in the garden of the Paish’s house, 86 Kingsley Way, Hampstead Garden Suburb. Anthony remembers Ruth and Raymond just after they arrived, both rather small and in Bavarian dress – Ruth in a Dirndl and Raymond in Lederhosen.

29 May 1939: visits to London, cookery ingredients and Dalcroze lessons

From Vera. There was an agreement between the parents and children to write twice a week, so that they could be reassured that all was well, but it was  evidently extremely worrying if post didn’t turn up. This letter was written 12 days since the previous one, so I assume that some of the undated letters – which I’ve yet to look at – intervened:

Dear Ruthi,

It was high time that your letter arrived. I almost sent a telegram, because I was very worried that you hadn’t written and I was thinking about what could have possibly happened. So, in the future, you’ll keep what we’ve agreed and divide the long letter on either Saturdays or Sundays, the shorter one (which may even be just a note) on Wednesday.

I was very glad to hear about your trip to London and that you have now experienced this interesting city. How are Paishes and their children? Mrs Eckhard has written me a nice little letter that everyone likes you very much and you are fine. She asks me to tell you that you would like to turn to her in confidence if you or Mani need something for example, if you are clogged up (“constipated’ in English). [there follows a list of ailments, translated into English]

Very surprised to hear that it’s so hot in England  and the sun shines until 9. Not the case here: it’s pouring and cold.

You should know that an English ounce = 28 grams. Now you can convert recipes.

There are certainly noodles over there, maybe they are called vermicelli. Otherwise you can make it easy yourself What is called bouillon cube, I do not know exactly. Anyway, Fleisch extract ] is called Extract of meat and Würfel is “Cube” . I will to see if I can send some; but it is easier if you look in Mr. Eckhard’s grocery store [the children were staying with Oscar Eckhard, who ran this shop, and helped him there], if he has none and ask him.

Paishes 1939

Ruth and Josie Eckhard outside Oscar Eckhard’s shop in Weybridge, 1939

Good to hear that the school is so nice. Everything you tell me is good news to me; also your lovely excursion with the churches and the windmill you drew.

Write what you do in your Dalcroze lessons! Of course I think it’s a good idea to change the black dress to a Dalcroze dress.[Ruth was learning Dalcroze eurythmics at the school; since Vera taught the Dalcroze method, she must have been very pleased about that.]

When is your performance? Do you understand A Midsummer Night’s Dream in English? How is cricket played? I do not know it. We played lacrosse with hard rubber balls caught in nets attached to bars. Is Mani playing tennis?

Does the girl whose mother knows Miss Hirst, Freeman?

I am very happy to hear about your pocket money.

Thanks for the nice house plan, I can now imagine everything well. Take care of the gas stove.

Where are Mani’s clothes and things kept? Do you have room for everything?

For today, darling. A kiss from your Mutti

P.S. Many greetings to the teddies.

How are you getting on with washing and ironing?

1 June 1939: “You are my beloved sparrows who happily trudge around the world and use your little wings”

From Vera:

My beloved children! Yesterday came your letter from London, which was opened this time by customs. It’s nice that you have spent those days in London. Your description of the house is so good that we can picture it perfectly. You are my beloved sparrows, and I am so glad when you so happily trudge around in the world and use your little wings. You are very independent and you are way ahead of others; you have learned that by traveling much earlier. It’s nice for Mutti as she can see the world completely fresh through your eyes.

So the underground or tube was so ghost-like! Yes, that must be strange when the stairs come rolling up with all those people reading their newspapers!

The Paishes’ garden must be beautiful, and the high rhododendrons in the new garden must be gorgeous.What do those very, very funny monkey-puzzle trees look like, Mani? And Ruthi, don’t keep saying “unfortunately”. Did you get the noodles I sent?

Ruth and Elizabeth Paish 1939

Elizabeth Paish and Ruth

I’m sitting in the sunshine with Frau Spielmann on her balcony on the 3rd floor. It’s lovely up here, you can see the hawthorn, the golden rain and the towers of the Paulskirche. It reminds me how beautiful St Paul’s Cathedral in London is – you have to see it. By the way, if you haven’t written to Rosie, please do so now; she wrote me a very nice letter and asks for your address, so she can visit you when she comes to England soon. Address: 150 Claremont Ave [this is in Manhattan, New York; they knew her as Tante Rosie but she seems to have been a family friend; we have four letters from 1941-43 from her, including two asking for news of Hans and Vera after their disappearance] .

Mrs. Paish sent a card with her house on it and wrote that she would like to send photos soon.

Ruth’s questionnaire idea is excellent and we’ll do that soon. So you two frogs have green school uniforms! I am so happy that you both are at school. Am terribly curious for more news about it. At Mani’s school, things will probably be very difficult at first, because I think English boys’ schools are very demanding. Don’t lose heart! You will get to like it over time. On Wednesday I went with Onki [Julius Kohn, the Neumeyer’s lodger and friend; he died in Auschwitz] to the cathedral for the last devotion of May, which was very nice.

Leo has had a letter returned that he sent to you but had misaddressed. So he’s really going to Shanghai.

That’s all for today.

Have a lovely weekend,


14 June 1939: party games, Shanghai and Woking

A postcard from Vera, suggesting party games for children, mentioning the departure of their friend Leo to Shanghai. and requesting photos of the children’s new family in England. She mentions Aranka: this is Aranka Wirsching, who lived at the Pollnhof at Dachau; the Aranka and Otto Wirsching were artist friends of the Neumeyers, and maintained contact after the war – her son Anselm wrote numerous letters to Ruth from a British Prisoner of War camp in Egypt during 1946-47; I have yet to translate them.

Dear children

Your letter arrived earlier, this time it took a bit longer because it had been opened by customs. I’m glad that you have the balance and can bake now. The birthday party should be fun. For games I suggest you play ‘grab the sausage’, climbing blindfolded over bottles, a sack race or a three-legged race (arms crossed), a sliding race or tying pairs of wrists together and getting each pair of children to untie themselves.

Anna is almost always there at noon. Today Aranka visited me. Unfortunately, you can not write to Leo here because he is leaving for Shanghai today; he will certainly write to you on the way. It must be nice in Woking! At noon there were strawberries with milk. There isn’t any cream. I hope we’ll get some pictures from you soon; don’t the Eckhards have any equipment? Your questions will be answered in the next letter.

1000 greetings!



Wartime Red Cross messages: fragments of news filter through from Germany

Red Cross letters grouped

After her journey on the Kindertransport  with her brother Raymond to England, my mother Ruth kept the correspondence from her parents, Vera and Hans, to her and Raymond. We have 57 letters from the parents from 1939–40 – all but eight of these are from Vera. Hans, being blind, typed his; in one letter his typewriter ribbon has hardly any ink so it’s virtually a blank page with illegible indentations. From Vera, 26 are dated (the last dated 5 March 1940) and 23 are undated or incomplete.

When writing from the UK to Germany in early 1940 letters had to be placed in an open unstamped envelope, within a stamped envelope posted to Thos. Cook & Son in Berkley Street, London W1, with a two-shilling postal order, the name and full address of the sender, and an open addressed envelope for the forwarding of a reply should one be received from the correspondent in Germany.

Specific rules about the contents of the letter were given:

Letters should be written in English or German without the address of the sender, and must contain nothing but matters of personal interest. No enclosure of the following nature is permitted – any printed matter, map, plan, sketch, drawing, print, photograph or other descriptive or pictorial representation , or postage or revenue stamp No reference should be made to any phase of the war. No mention may be made in such letters, of any office of Thos. Cook & Son Ltd. at home or abroad.

Once a month, 25 words maximum: the Red Cross messages

During 1940 it was no longer possible to send letters by mail. Instead the only way of making contact was through Red Cross messages. These were very limiting: a maximum of 25 words and a maximum of one message per month. They did however show the handwriting of the correspondents.

What particularly struck me this week as I typed these messages out in date order was the amount of waiting and uncertainty there must have between sending and receiving: they took weeks to get to Switzerland, then weeks more to get to their destination. And when they arrived, they reassured the recipient that the sender was still alive several weeks ago, but there’s no real news apart from the surreal announcements that one was well and happy, and life was normal – and both parties knew the truth was far from that.

It is remarkable that we have the messages died in concentration camps. These messages seem to have been passed to Dora (Vera’s sister), who spent the entire war in Dresden and later passed various items of correspondence to Ruth.

The earliest Red Cross message we have is from Ruth to her parents. It has the handwritten date 10 June 1940 but the official stamps 12 August 1940 and 23 September 1940 [the latter, presumably the date it was transmitted or received; the other messages Ruth sent similarly have handwritten and officially stamped dates.)

She mentions the ‘flute music’ – this would have been the recorder duets Hans composed for Ruth and her friend Jane.

The message is set out as follows (with printed material from the form in bold; each item is also translated into German):


[datestamp:]12 AUGUST 1940; 23 September 1940


Christian name Ruth

Address 71 Barton Road Cambridge

c/o Mrs Stirland

Relationship of Enquirer to Addressee Daughter

The Enquirer desires news of the Addressee and asks that the following message should be transmitted to him.


Date 10.6.1940





The addressee’s reply to be written overleaf.

The rest of the messages

Subsequent Red Cross messages are in the same format. Most sent from England have two rubberstamped dates (in addition to the handwritten one at the date of writing) – one showing the date it was received in Switzerland, the other showing the date it was received by the German Red Cross. Here are the messages with just the dates and message (Ruth’s are written in block capitals, but Vera wrote in cursive script or typed her messages; I have inserted some editorial full stops to ease reading):

From Ruth, date almost illegible but seems to be 22 July 1940, rubberstamped 23 August 1940 [Ruth is putting on plays – her favourite pastime, just like the Neumeyers did back in Dachau]


From Ruth, 23 July 1940, rubberstamped 23 August 1940 and 2 November 1942 [- does this really mean it was returned undelivered more than two years later? That would have been after Vera’s presumed death in a concentration camp.]


From Vera and Hans, 17 September 1940, rubberstamped 4 October 1940 [unfortunately none of the flute music referred to has survived, though he wrote his duo in August 1940 and his trio in 1939-4, both of which exist.]

Alle gesund. Mutti viele Stunden und Ausflüge Vati viele Flöten – und andere Stücke komponiert. Seid Ihr zusammen? Von Rosi Nachricht. Euch beiden immigste  Grüsse! Eltern

All well. Mother many hours and excursions. Father composes many flute and other pieces. Are you together? Best wishes to you both! Parents

From Vera and Hans, 25 September 1940, rubberstamped 15 October 1940: from parents [Raymond was no longer with Ruth; best wishes are from Hans, Martin Ephraim and Vera’s sisters Marianne and Dora].

Sehr erfreut über Deine Julibriefe. Wir sind alle gesund und denken an Euch. Wo ist Raimund? Innigste Grüsse, auch von Vati, Grossvati and deine Tanten. Mutti

Very glad to get your July letter. We are all well and thinking of you. Where is Raymond? Sincerest wishes, also from Father, Grandfather and your aunts. Mother

From Ruth, 24 September 1940, rubberstamped 3 December 1940 and 17 January 1941 [this hints at the slow arrival of the messages – Ruth gives birthday greetings and said she had a lovely birthday herself, but both her and her mother’s birthdays were in September]:


From Ruth, no handwritten date, rubberstamped 15 January 1941 and 25 February 1941:


From Ruth, 7 January 1941, rubberstamped 19 March 1941 and 6 June 1941:


From Hans and Vera, 4 February 1941 [from here onwards, their messages were written in English]:

Dearest Children,

All well, glad about your news. Had beautiful Christmas and snow excursions. Keep on working. All relations and friends send you love.


From Ruth, 4 May 1941, rubberstamped 2 May 1941 and 24 July 1941:


From Hans and Vera, 11 March 1941:

All well. Glad having got your news. Mother teaches, father composes. All friends and relatives send greetings.

Love to you both.


From Vera, 7 April 1941, rubberstamped 17 April 1941 and 25 April 1941 [this is the only Red Cross message from Vera to be on an official form with addresses of senders and recipients – all the others are just handwritten on paper with a rubberstamped date; the Neumeyers are still at Thorwaldsenstrasse 5, Munich; Raymond was by then working on a farm and not happy; the ‘servant Anna’ is I think Anna Kürzinger, whom Ruth described as her nanny/nurse – she survived the war and I remember visiting her with my parents in Dachau in 1966]:

Received Raimond’s farming greetings. Very glad. What about his confirmation? We all well and working. Our servant Anna married. I went to grandfather’s birthday. Mother.

From Ruth, 20 May 1941, rubberstamped 18 July 1941 and 2 December 1941:


Red Cross 20 5 1941From Vera and Hans, 19 June 1941 [Aunt Dodo/Tante Dodo – was Vera’s sister Dora, who lived in Dresden for the rest of her life; she refers to Betty, Hans’ sister, who has gone to Columbia to join her son Gustl (Gustav)]

All  well. Aunt Dodo was here, Aunt Betty has gone to Gustl. Mother works much. How are you both?

Love from all.


From Vera and Hans, 22 July 1941, rubberstamped 11 August 1941:

All well. Glad about your news. Do tell more about new home and Raymond. Mother likes gardening work. Best wishes for your Birthday, dear!


From Ruth, 3 September 1941, rubberstamped 18 November 1941:


From Vera and Hans, 26 November 1941, rubberstamped 15 December 1941:

All well, hoping same of you two. Working busily. Greetings from relations and friends. Best wishes for Xmas and Raimund’s birthday.


From Raymond, 10 February 1942, rubberstamped 2 March 1942 and 4 May 1942 [sent from Birmingham, where Raymond was working in a bicycle factory]:


From Vera, 25 January 1942, rubberstamped 18 February 1942:

Happy about your news. Hope all enjoyed your Xmas play. Did you spend holidays with brother? All well. Love from parents, grandfather, aunts and friends.

From Ruth, 17 March 1942, rubberstamped 10 April 1942 and 10 July 1942 [mention of nursery training she was then doing at Wellgarth, near Swindon]:


From Raymond, 31 March 1942, rubberstamped 19 June 1942:


From Vera and Hans to Raymond, 1 May 1942:

Very well and glad about your news. What work are you doing? Mother doing gardening-work. Do you meet Ruth often? Love to both!


From Vera, 17 June 1942, rubberstamped 31 July 1942 [only signed by her; presumably she was no longer with Hans]:

Very happy about your and Ruth’s messages. Sure you enjoyed Messiah as I did. Should like to hear about your work

Am healthy.

Love Mother

From Vera, 9 July 1942 [her last message, just before deportation to a concentration camp near Lublin (probably Madjanek), where she would have likely been murdered on arrival; to get past the censors she just says ‘going on journey’ rather than the actual truth; this was the last ever heard from her apart from her letter written on the train to the camp]:

Going on journey, but cheerful and happy, healthy. Father same.

Keep in touch with aunt Dora Böse, Dresden, Leipzigerstrasse 147.

Keep happy!


red-cross_veras-last-message-09-07-1942.jpgFrom Martin Ephraim, undated, rubberstamped 20 or 28 November 1942 [this is the only message sent by Martin; by then he was in the Jewish Hospital in Iranische Strasse, Berlin, before his deportation to Theresienstadt in January 1944]:

Dearest Ruthi

Received with pleasure your good news. Am quite well. Don’t know where parents are now. Many greetings.

Grandfather Martin.

From Raymond to Dora, 13 October 1942, rubberstamped 2 November 1942 and 28 December 1942 [Vera having been deported, Raymond now writes to his aunt Dora in Dresden]:



From Dora (Vera’s sister), 24 December 1942, rubberstamped 28 February 1943:

Received your news; Nonno[?] and we all are well. Our love to you and Ruthi. Keep cheerful both. Auntie Dora.

From Raymond to Dora, 5 January 1943, rubberstamped in Germany 2 June 1943:



From Dora, 31 May 1943, rubberstamped 30 June 1943 [the final message; total silence after that]:

Grandfather and we all in good health. Erik, Peter send love. Irmgard and myself going for long Sunday walks. Love to you both

Auntie Dora


Ruth tried in vain to get more news about her parents but this letter from the Red Cross shows they drew a blank:

Dear Madam,

In reply to your letter, we will do our best to find out about your parents, if you could first give us a little more information.

When did you last receive news of them, and how? What reason have you for thinking that they have been deported? Were you ever in touch with them through the Red Cross? If you could give us names and addresses of anybody in Munich who would be likely to keep in touch with them as far as possible, this would be a great help to us in making our enquiries. Please add the laces of birth of your parents, if you know this.

May I say how deeply we sympathise with you in your anxiety?

Yours truly,

for M. R. Carden

Red Cross_letter Aug 1943 about tracing parents

Copyright Tim Locke November 2017. Originals of all these Red Cross messages are in the Imperial War Museum, London.

New threads emerge: a miscellany

Since I’ve started this blog in May 2014, more and more material about the story of my mother’s family has come to light.

In recent months I’ve been keeping contact with the Imperial War Museum who are keen to feature the family story in the revamp of the Holocaust Gallery for 2020 (as part of the remodelling of the World War II galleries). They’ll be looking at the Neumeyers and Ephraims from the years before Hitler came to power to the post war years.

My brothers, cousin and I are delighted that they are taking over the entire Neumeyer/Ephraim archive, which will be kept permanently in IWM London. The famous teddy bear will be on display, and the numerous artefacts such as the letters and photographs will be accessible to researchers. There could well be copious material here for a PhD researcher (and any researchers are very welcome to contact me).

This post is a collection of bits and updates – some of which I’ve also added to the corresponding places in earlier posts.

Hans Neumeyer tributes

Hans Neumeyer Garmisch 1930s

Hans near his sister’s house at Garmisch, in the German Alps

Hans’ secretary Dela Blakmar kept in touch with my mother for some forty years after the war. In one of her letters she copied out notes from two men who knew Hans.

Dr Elias Manuelidis was a Yale Professor of Neurology at Yale. He died in 1992 aged 74. He wrote to Dela:

Munich 17 July 1947

Kurz nach dem Einmarsch der Amerikaner suchte ich Dr Spanier auf und von diesem erfuhr ich als erster das tragische Schicksal, das unsern lieben Hans getroffen hat. Die Nachtricht war für mich ganz besonders schmerzlich, weil ich in den letzten Kriegsmonaten mich ganz besonders auf ein baldiges Wiedersehen mit ihm freute.

Ich brauche Ihnen, liebe Dela, nicht zu betonen, dass Hans in meiner seelischen Entwicklung in meiner Studentenzeit die grösste Rolle gespiet hat. Das “Nicht Hassen” habe ich ihm zu verdanken. Ich erinnere mich oft an seine Worte, dass der Hass etwas Negatives kommnung und zu einer Produtivität im geistigen Gebiet Führe kann. Ich habe sehr viels miterlebt, jedoch an seine Worte muss ich immer denken.
“Shortly after the American invasion I visited Dr Spanier and from this I was the first to experience the tragic fate that has befallen our dear Hans. The nightmare was especially painful for me because in the last months of the war I was especially looking forward to seeing him again soon. I need hardly tell you, dear Dela, the major role Hans played in my development in my student days. I owe to him the principle “not to hate”. I often think of his words that hatred can lead to negativity and to productivity in the spiritual realm. I’ve been through a lot, and what he said is always dear to my heart .”

Alois Weiner, his friend, was with him in Theresienstadt concentration camp. Another letter from Alois has already been recorded in this blog.

12 September 1946

Der gute Hans ist tot. Zwei jahre lang war er eigentlich glücklicher als viel von uns, weil er einige Schüler hatte, hauptsäntlich junge Lehrer aus der Tchechoslovakei. Diese Schüler haben ihn verehrt und, was dort am wichtigsten war, haben ihn zusätzlich reichlich mit Lebensmittel versorgt, den sie bekamen im Gegensatz zu uns mehr und grössere Pakete. Dass er mit dem was er bekam nicht geizte, kann niemand besser bestätigen als ich und mir machte es wiederum Freude, wenn mir ein Päckchen zuflog, mit ihm zu teilen…. Kurz vor seinem Tod kam Ihr letztes Päckchen. Ich erinnere mich noch, dass es Oelsardinen waren und dass er mir eine davon unbedingt aufdrängte…

Aber eines Tage kam seine Krankheit zum Ausbruch und das Schlimme war, dass er in ein Krankenhaus eingeliefert wurde, aus dem er nie an die frische Luft herauskam, sondern immer in einem Zimmer mit etwa acht andern Leuten lag. Bedenkt man seine Blindheit ohnehin und dieses körperliche Leiden dazu, so hat er alles mit grösster Geduld getragen
“The good Hans is dead. For two years he was actually happier than many of us, because he had some students, mainly young teachers from Czechoslovakia. These disciples venerated him and, most importantly, provided him with plenty of food, which they got, unlike us, more and larger packages. No one could confirm better than I can how generous he was with  his share,, and I would chuck him a packet to share …. Shortly before his death came his last package. I still remember that they were sardines in oil and that he urged me on one of them … But one day there was an outbreak of illness and he was taken to a hospital from which he never came out into the fresh air; his fate was to spend all the time lying  in a room with about eight other people. Considering his blindness and suffering, he bore everything with great patience.”

Selected photographs

There are hundreds of historic photos in the archive. Here are a few that I’d like to highlight:

Evangelische Schule Dachau 1935 Ruth top row 5th from R, Raymond 2nd row 2nd from R

Evangelische Schule Dachau in 1935. Ruth is in the top row fifth from right, and Raymond is in the second row, second from right

Some snapshots of the Neumeyers’ normal family life:

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Julius Kohn

Julius Kohn, who lived with the Neumeyers in Dachau. He had no family and when the Nazis stormed into the house in 1939 to stop a children’s play being performed in front of friends and neighbours, he was arrested and taken to Dachau concentration camp for two weeks – he never spoke about his ordeal there. A kindly, somewhat mild-mannered man (nicknamed Onki), he died in Auschwitz.

Gold that somehow the Nazis never got hold of

Ephraim jewellery (2)

This beautiful gold locket bears the photo of Hildegard Ephraim (my mother’s maternal grandmother) on the back. The back panel has been removed, maybe deliberately – would have Martin Ephraim have taken it off (perhaps it was Hildegard’s and Martin’s  photo was inside the missing part) when Hildegard died in 1932? My mother Ruth never showed me this locket – we discovered it at the back of her wardrobe when we cleared out her house in Sydenham in 2013. But in her wedding photo of 1951 she is wearing this locket – possibly for the only time. We don’t know it got to Britain but assume one of Ruth’s aunts brought it over after the war.

The Ephraims’ car-rallying antics

On July 13-14 1909 Vera’s brother (my great uncle) Herbert Ephraim gained fourth  place in a field of 23 in the Ostdeutsche Tourenpreisfahrt, a rally in eastern Germany, driving an Opel.  Two years later he took part in The Prince Henry Tour, an automobile race between Britain and Germany in honour of George V’s coronation. It started from Homburg on 4 July 1911 and finished in London on 19 July, with the British team victors. One of the drivers racing for Britain was the author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: the story of Conan Doyle’s participation is recounted here.

The Prince Henry Tour was an automobile race organised by Prince Henry (Prinz Albert Wilhelm Heinrich von Preußen, 1862-1929). This tour was a gesture of sporting good will in honour of King George V’s coronation. Prince Henry participated to the tour himself. The race featured 37 German cars from the Kaiserlichter Automobil-Klub (mostly Opel, Benz and Mercedes) versus 28 British cars from the Royal Automobile Club.

Motoring historian Anders Clausager has also contacted me with more information. in 1906 Martin Ephraim took part in the Herkomer Fahrt, a motor rally in Germany, driving a Daimler. Anders thought it was most unusual for a German to have owned an English car, but I’ve thus far drawn a blank why Martin had a Daimler.

Neumeyers in Herbert Ephraims car in Schreiberhau

Martin Ephraim in the front passenger seat of the family car at Schreiberhau. Behind them are Hans and Vera Neumeyer, clearly visible; the other passengers are unknown (as is the make of car).

Hans Neumeyer’s music gets more performances

There have been performances of Hans Neumeyer’s trio and duo in various places, including at a music festival in Murcia, Spain, and in Lewes and very soon in Dachau. There’s a complete recording on youtube of the Duo, recorded at a summer festival at the Waldheim Palace, performed by Oleg Fedchuk  (violin) and  Iakov Zats (viola).

Trio in Murcia playing Neumeyer trio 30 Jan 2015

A performance of Hans Neumeyer’s trio, January 2015 in Murcia

Raimund’s school report

My uncle Raymond (then called Raimund Neumeyer before he anglicised his name to Raymond Newland) had a huge thirst for learning when he arrived in England, as evidenced by this school report from the Strodes School, Egham:

Raymond school report Egham 1940

Raimund’s school report for 1940 shows encouraging signs, topping the class in physics and chemistry, and coming second in geography. Since he’d only been living in England for a year, he did remarkably well in English, too.

Munich, 1939: last months before the Kindertransport journey to England

I noticed today a set of photos which belong together – on some of them Ruth has annotated that they are of the Köbner family, and some are labelled ‘Munich, April 1939′, a month before Ruth and Raimund’s departure. The Neumeyers by then were living in Thorwaldsenstrasse, in central Munich. It may be that the Köbners were neighbours – we don’t have any details. The father was a doctor.

These are the pictures Raimund took when visiting as British army personnel just after the war, showing the Neumeyers’ lodging at 5 Thorwaldsenstrasse in ruins, and just round the corner the Bennokirche in what remained of Lorisstrasse. Both streets have since been completely rebuilt although the church still stands, presumably much repaired:

The photos of the Köbners themselves include their son Peter Klaus and infant daughter Beatrice. In the slideshow below  he is on his bicycle – the architecture looks quite similar to Thorwaldsenstrasse. The group photo is of the family dressed for  Fasching (Shrovetide carnival) costumes, presumably February 1939 (Ruth is far right; Raimund is wearing a hat and only half his face is visible):

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And finally: an extraordinary image

With very good reason, Ruth absolutely detested swastikas. My father had to cover up the spine of a novel that had a swastika on it to avoid offending her. So it’s particularly surprising to come across her design for this programme cover for an all-women play by Christa Winsloe called Children in Uniform. This was produced at Leavesden Green Emergency Teacher Training College, where she and my father met in 1949. She’s in the programme as playing ‘Her Excellency Von Ehrenhardt’. She must have been very uncomfortable about creating this cover: it’s not something she ever showed me.

Children in Uniform 1949 cover_20171104_0001

Text and images copyright Tim Locke November 2017






Hans’ plea after Kristallnacht

The mass pogroms across Nazi Germany on the night of 9/10 November 1938 did not happen in Dachau town. There were few Jewish people living in town – a typed list of twelve families with their addresses summed up what the authorities deemed the complete catalogue of who should be removed.

No way out, but “that’s your problem”

One of those Jews on the list was Johanna Jaffe, who lived in Taubenbergstrasse in Dachau and had worked as a private secretary for two professional artists at a time when Dachau was a renowned artists’ colony. Her story is typical of how all twelve households would have been treated that night. She recalled a knock on the door shortly before midnight. She opened the door to find two men in brown SA uniforms, who said ‘Heil Hitler’ and read a document to her, saying that if she did not leave her house before sunrise she could reckon with imprisonment. She asked how she could do that at such short notice, given that there was no way out of Dachau at that time of night. They replied “That’s your problem.” She signed the document and went upstairs to dress and pack a suitcase with all her money and jewellery. A girl from the Wallachs – another Jewish family from town –  came round and offered her a lift  to Munich, where she spent the rest of the night. Some members of both families perished under the Nazis, though some managed to escape to a new life in England.

For my mother’s family, the Neumeyers, the situation was slightly different in that Hans was away in Berlin at the time, learning to make flutes. So it was wife Vera and their children Ruth and Raimund who had to respond to that fateful knock on the door – and leave before sunrise.

Click here to listen to Ruth describing how they were forced to leave their house after Kristallnacht.


Hans’ plea to the Gestapo


After the family’s departure to Munich, Hans wrote a letter to the Gestapo requesting access to his house. The Nazis complied and Ruth later accompanied him to the house to sort out some matters. He no longer had a guide dog – Jews were not allowed to own them. (His last two guide dogs had been Amsi – buried in the garden; a tombstone was installed for the purpose – and Thea). Getting around was difficult, for any Jew, let alone a blind one.

That was the last time Hans ever visited his home. Ruth did not see it again until 1952.

The letter below is held in the Munich state archive. It is recorded in this English translation in Hans-Günter Richardi’s book Dachau: A Guide to its Contemporary History:

According to decree given  to my wife during my absence on the evening of November 10 at about 8 PM, my wife and my two children were ordered to leave my house in Dachau at Hindenburgstrasse 10,  on November 11 by 5:45 AM at the latest, under the threat of imprisonment. This order was issued by three men with Party IDs, and they declared specifically that the decree been issued by a Sondergruppe (special police commission). The Kreiseleitung in Dachau  confirmed the accuracy of the decree. My wife was allowed to take clothing and undergarments for herself and the children with her, but since she was alone, she was  able only to pack the barest necessities for the children. My family left the apartment and that town at five in the morning and I have been told that the apartment was later sealed by the police.

I am turning to the Munich Gestapo with the humble request that I be allowed to return to my house, inhabited by me and my family, for a few days, for the following reasons:

1 To remove my certificates and documents, which I need urgently in order to continue the process of applying to immigration, as well as a series of written material and books in braille, which I depend on owing to my blindness.

2  To submit the documents requested by the Dachau tax office to determine the Jewish property tax, as indicated in the enclosed letter.

3 To pick up winter clothing for myself and my wife.

In the spring of 1938 I asked to Munich real estate agents sell my house, and I declare myself willing to accelerate the sale process. Therefore, I asked for permission to return temporarily to complete the sale of house.

In this connection, I ask that the police seal be removed or that I be allowed to remove it myself.

Screen Shot 2017-10-25 at 08.37.35

The letter Hans Neumeyer sent to the Nazi authorities in order to gain access to the family’s house, 9 December 1938. Ruth accompanied him to the house.

the house 1926

Vera and Ruth on the steps of the house, 1926


Current-day view of the house, which is now divided into flats, with new houses built on part of the back garden (photo: Jürgen Müller-Hohagen, who lives in one of the new houses and whom I had the pleasure of meeting last year).

Dachau house Vera and Wolfgang's rose

Vera Gunkel, one of our German relatives from Dresden, and her husband Wolfgang, visited the house in Dachau in August 2017 and placed this rose on the Stolpersteine that commemorate the Neumeyers and their lodger Julius Kohn (‘Onki’, who died in Auschwitz). They also went into the house and spoke to one of the residents of the apartments within – they found a copy of the historic black and white photo shown above hangs on a wall.

Changes afoot in Holocaust Gallery at IWM

The Imperial War Museum in London is planning a total restructuring of its Holocaust Gallery for 2020. It’s hoped our family’s substantial archive about the fates of the Ephraims and Neumeyers in the 1930s and 1940s will be part of that. In October Jess and James from the museum paid a visit to my house and spent three hours looking through the family archive.


Earlier this month I attended a lunch event where they summarised the new approach they’re taking. Since the opening of the Gallery in 2000 much new material has come to light and it’s felt that there’s a need to widen the span historically from 1930 to 1949. This follows on from the new First World War galleries opened in 2014, and will coincide with the unveiling of a new Second World War gallery in 2020.

20161206_130359_resizedIn essence the new areas of emphasis will be:

  1. The legacy of the First World War
  2. The impact and influence of the Second World War
  3. The ‘Holocaust by bullets’
  4. The aftermath: surviving survival
  5. British responses
  6. Reappraisal of the camp system
  7. The extent of collaboration and complicity

So they’ll be examining life pre-Holocaust, under Nazi power and after the war. The museum will be collecting associated artefacts and engaging with audiences through a ‘people’s forum’.

One theme they’ll explore will be the stories of mothers of Kindertransport children aiming to enter Britain as domestics – which is what Vera Neumeyer attempted to do.

The current display of the Neumeyers at IWM

20161206_163620_resizedThe Holocaust Gallery in its present form begins with a brightly lit wood-panelled display area with photos of Jewish life in Germany and elsewhere before 1933. From there the display areas become increasingly dark as the theme itself darkens, until a huge starkly lit, ghostly white scale model of Auschwitz-Birkenau appears. Beyond is a room devoted to the theme of hiding – and that’s where there’s this small display case devoted to the. Neumeyers (seen in the centre of the photo above, with details in the photo below).


The current display on the Neumeyers at the Imperial War Museum features a photo of Hans Neumeyer and the story that the family lived in attics in Munich under a false identity. Beneath Hans’ picture is the cover of the recorder duet music he composed in 1939 for Ruth (pictured at the bottom, and positioned on the music itself). The music cover depicts an imaginary view, probably drawn by Hans’ secretary Dela Blakmar, of Ruth and her friend Jane in England, playing a recorder duet whilst lying in a hammock – see the post made in June 2016 about the first performance of these pieces.


What next?

There’s so much of the family archive that could be relevant to the new display. As well as artefacts such as Ruth’s teddy bear and dressing gown, there are all the family photos showing life in Dachau in the 1920s and 1930s, and the letters from Vera and Hans to Ruth and Raimund in 1939 (which I have yet to scan and translate).

The story of Raimund Neumeyer, who became Raymond Newland by deed poll, and his time spent in Germany working for the British military police postwar is another story that I need to look into and will form a future post on this blog.

Then there are Ruth’s diaries and letters throughout the 1940s that paint a vivid picture of her new life in England. So far in her wartime diaries I have found virtually no reference to her feelings about leaving her parents – but that absence of a record is itself interesting, as she no doubt sought to rebuild afresh.

How wonderful it is that she kept it all.

Don’t Stand By: HMD 2016 in Lewes

Here’s the complete text of my presentation at Holocaust Memorial Day in Lewes Town Hall on 27 January 2016, with extracts from an interview made about ten years ago with my mother. The event drew a large audience (over 250) and focused on the stories surrounding those who did something positive to save lives of others in times of genocide. We heard from Wlodka Robertson – a friend of my mother since 1965, she survived the bleakest conditions in the Warsaw Ghetto, where others hid her during round-ups and helped her escape over the wall to safe houses, where various families looked after her for the duration.  There were talks from the Refugee Council, from a local architect who recently built shelters for refugees in Calais, and from a photographer exhibiting in shop windows throughout Lewes photo stories about the individual refugees in the UK who made a notable contribution to this country in one form or another. With Priory School pupils reading from the play Kindertransport, and an excellent band of Klezmer musicians, it made for a thought-provoking three hours.

Here’s the text of my talk, with the Powerpoint slides inserted above each corresponding part of the text.

I’d like to share with you the story of my mother’s family when faced with the greatest danger during the Holocaust in Bavaria. Some escaped  – my mother and her brother came over to England on the Kindertransport. Others died in Nazi camps.

It is a story of action and inaction. Of survival, of escape and of tragic delay. Those who realised they must do something, and those who acted too late or not at all.


Here they are: Hans, a blind composer and music teacher, and his wife Vera, a teacher of eurhythmics (a music and movement discipline). And in the third picture – Ruth, my mother, and Raimund, my uncle. They lived in the town of Dachau, just outside Munich. Hans was Jewish by birth; Vera had a Jewish father but Aryan mother – she was classified as ‘nicht Arisch’ (‘non-Aryan’) by the Nazis as she was married to a Jew. The family were Lutherans, and there was nothing Jewish about their lifestyle; Ruth and Raimund were quite unaware of their Jewish background.


‘It was a very nice childhood’, said my mother; certainly up to 1933, when Hitler came to power. After then the noose gradually tightened; Hans lost his job, people sometimes threw stones at them and shouted ‘Saujude’ (Jewish pig). But life carried on, and the feeling was that nothing that terrible could really happen to them. They weren’t rich or important, and were Protestants anyway.

The family photo album shows an idyllic, rather bohemian family life in the 1920s. Playing in the garden, hiking in the mountains…


…and a tradition of home-made theatricals, with Vera directing plays acted out in their house by local children. It was during one of these plays in 1937 that Ruth and Raimund’s childhood came to an abrupt end, as my mother describes in an interview made at the Imperial War Museum, a few years before her death in 2012:

Click here to listen to Ruth talking about the day SS officials stormed into the Neumeyers’ house.


In 1938 the Neumeyers were facing real danger. The Burgomaster’s office in Dachau compiled a list of 13 Jewish families living in the town. The Neumeyers are fourth on this list – ‘und zwei Kinder’ (‘and two children’), some official has scribbled at the end.

My mother recalled: There were acts of great kindness from friends, such as the family who ran a grocery store in Dachau, who helped them a lot – they even put out food in the fields for prisoners who were doing forced labour.

It culminated with Kristallnacht, 9-10 November 1938 – there was no pogrom in Dachau that night, but the Neumeyers received orders to leave their house by sunrise.

Click here to listen to Ruth describing how they were forced to leave their house after Kristallnacht.

And so the Nazis rejoiced:’Dachau ist somit judenfrei’ – Dachau is hereby free of Jews.


We never understood why Hans and Vera did not leave: they had contacts in England and Switzerland. But my mother talked of a tension between them at that time.

Hans’ sister Betty – pictured second from the right in the top left picture, escaped on the last Trans-Siberian train out east in 1941 – then on the last ship to Columbia before war made travel impossible. There she joined her son, Gustl (far right in the same photo), who had emigrated there a few years earlier. Hans’ sister Irma was rounded up by the Nazis and died in Theresienstadt as he did.

Both Vera’s sisters survived. Marianne (Janni; pictured seated) had married an Italian count before the war. It wasn’t the cosiest of set-ups: he made his housekeeper pregnant and his brother was a friend of Mussolini. She separated from him and went to live in Thuringia. Dora (pictured far right) stayed in Dresden throughout the war – not Jewish enough to be persecuted, though her daughter married a Jew and in February 1945 was ordered to turn up the next day for deportation to a concentration camp. As it was, that night Dresden was carpet bombed and the deportation never happened.


Vera’s father, Martin Ephraim, was a retired Jewish industrialist and patriotic German. When told of Nazi atrocities he said ‘That is surely exaggerated. Germans would never do a thing like that.’ His son Herbert, a professional racing car driver (and once national German champion – ‘Ephraim für Deutschland’  – how ironic is that?) – seen here with his new car in the 1920s with Ruth and Raimund on the fender – emigrated to America in 1931. As life became increasingly difficult for Jews, he wrote to Martin several times urging his father to come to America. Martin refused: ‘I was born in Germany and will die here.’ Martin Ephraim was arrested by Nazis and perished in Theresienstadt in 1942.


By early 1939 the parents were desperate to get their children to safety. The first Kindertransport had started late in 1938: Vera undertook lots of queuing and form-filling, and waiting to see if Ruth and Raimund could get a place on one of the transports to England. Hans and Vera had remembered they  had a contact from England, Beatrice Paish, whom they’d met years before at a Dalcroze Eurythmic school near Dresden. Vera wrote to her and to their joy Beatrice and her husband Frank agreed to take in Ruth and Raimund. Meanwhile Vera had received a promise from the Jewish Blind Society in England that accommodation could be found for them, but the visas never came. Here’s how Ruth describes the arrangements for the Kindertransport:


Click here to listen to Ruth’s description of the endless form filling, and how they smuggled a new dressing gown into their luggage…


May 10 1939: Munich Hauptbahnhof. Vera and Hans say goodbye for the very last time Ruth and Raimund. Ruth is sure that their parents will follow: after the children arrive in England, Vera and Hans write frequent letters, all upbeat and concealing their true emotions; then after war begins in September, only short Red Cross messages come, maximum 20 words, one a month – the last says simply ‘going on a journey’; then after 1942, nothing. Here’s how Ruth remembers it:

Click here to listen to Ruth’s memories of the Kindertransport journey she undertook with her brother Raimund, from Munich to Liverpool Street.



May 11 1939: Ruth and Raimund arrive in Weybridge. The first word of English pops up in her diary for May 12: cornflakes.

Her new life in England was a revelation. She loved her new family; they loved her. She wasn’t homesick, just pleased to get away from the tension and awfulness. She enjoyed school for the first time. Her new friend Jane said ‘before Ruth came, our family was rather boring. Then she came and everything was wonderful.’ Ruth slipped into the English language without even remembering how she learnt it.

Raimund had a tougher time and had to live elsewhere and work on a farm, which he hated, then in a bicycle factory, which wasn’t much better. After the war he worked for British army intelligence as an interpreter and revisited Germany – he even denounced the burgomaster of Dachau – the very man who had ordered the Neumeyers out of their house on Kristallnacht – to the authorities, who were able to prosecute as a result.

But both children stayed on in England and married and had families.



Fast forward half a century: Ruth maintained contact with friends in Dachau and in 1988 was invited to attend an exhibition in the town hall to mark the 50th anniversary of Kristallnacht.

Ruth was still very ambivalent about Germany. ‘The only thing I really like about it is the mountains.’ She said she would only attend if the town of Dachau would agree to two things. [1] That they would erect a memorial to the Jewish families from Dachau who had been forced out on Kristallnacht. And [2] That she could visit a school and talk to children the same age as she was when she was forced to leave in 1939. Dachau’s town council at first refused, giving the reason that no persecutions of Jews had happened in Dachau town itself. But she persisted and a German journalist, Hans Holzhaider, came to her aid. He had written a book about the stories of the Jewish families ousted from Dachau and I think he had helped her come to terms with a lot of her past. He argued it out with the authorities, who eventually gave in.

Ruth had her wish. Here’s the memorial, and a photo taken at a school in Dachau. Here she’s speaking to a class of children; the teacher sits to the right, and to the right of him is my father Ronald.

Meanwhile she always asked the question: why didn’t her parents leave when they had the chance?

It was only after the end of the war that she found out that her parents died in camps. Until then, there was always a glimmer of hope.


And finally: the kindness of these people – Bea and Frank Paish – rescued two children from oblivion. They didn’t have to do it, and would have known hardly anything about Ruth and Raimund themselves. Frank Paish, a distinguished economist, said late in his life that taking in the two Neumeyer children was ‘the best thing we ever did in our lives’. They certainly didn’t stand by.

They weren’t able to take in Ruth and Raimund into their house, but their extended family – the Paishes, Eckhards and Stirlands – came to the rescue. The children stayed first with Oscar Eckard, who ran a shop in Weybridge and instantly took to them. The adopted family became a lifelong bond.

Finally, do have a look at some of the items Ruth brought over on the Kindertransport – on show at the library till the end of this month: the teddy, the dressing gown, her diaries, the suitcase with a tatty luggage label, the silver knife, fork and spoon…



I’ll now introduce the next musical item.

Ruth’s father, Hans Neumeyer, was a blind composer and teacher of musical theory who survived two years in Theresienstadt, apparently helped by giving music lessons to fellow prisoners in exchange for food, before his death there in 1944. All of his compositions perished in bombing, except for two chamber works. We are now going to hear the slow movement from a duo for violin and viola, written in 1940, two years before his deportation. It will be played by Anna Lowenstein and Stephen Giles; many thanks to Stephen for agreeing to play this at very short notice.

Anna and Stephen gave a very moving account of this movement of the duo. Anna had first heard it when I played a couple of minutes of it from the recording, at last years HMD event in Lewes: she liked it so much she asked me if she could use it as her student recital piece in Manchester last year, and then a few weeks back asked me to look for a viola player so she could play it again at this event. Happily, Stephen Giles – a professional viola player and viola teacher based in Lewes – volunteered his services.

Click here to listen to this movement, the Andante Moderato, played by Chris Brierley (who plays both tracks, one recorded over the other). Anna and Stephen took a slower tempo than this.