“Change of air urgently recommended.” Those were the words my great-uncle Rudi Kolisch sent by telegram from Florence to my grandparents Arnold and Trude Schoenberg in Berlin on May 16, 1933. That evening they packed a suitcase, boarded a train to Paris, and never returned.
In a way, by being early targets of the Nazis, my grandparents turned out to be some of the lucky ones. They escaped while escape was still possible. But for those who stayed behind, the routes of departure soon closed. My grandfather’s brother Heinrich, an opera singer, died in Salzburg from injuries suffered in the custody of the Gestapo. His sister Ottilie managed to survive the war in Berlin, protected by a non-Jewish partner, but her daughter Inge and her husband were shot by SS as they fled their hiding places during the fire-bombing of Dresden near the end of the war. My grandfather’s first cousin Arthur, an engineer who directed the Munich electric company, and his wife Eva died in Theresienstadt. Their daughter Lotte was killed in Jasenovac, the Croatian concentration camp. This was the sad fate of those who were left behind.
When my grandfather fled from Berlin to Paris in 1933, he immediately met with Zionist leaders, including the visiting Rabbi Stephen S. Wise, a leader of American Jewry, to alert them to the perils facing Jews in Germany. In large part his appeals fell on deaf ears. Foregoing an invitation to attend the Zionist Congress in Prague, my grandfather came to America in the fall of 1933, and gave speeches at Jewish organizations about the situation in Germany. For the next five years, he drafted numerous letters, essays and speeches warning of the calamity that was about to befall the Jews of Europe. This culminated in a lengthy essay he entitled “ A Four Point Program for Jewry,” completed in Los Angeles in October 1938, just days before the infamous Kristallnacht.
The future will always pose challenges. Learning how to recognize them in advance is one of the reasons we study history. How was it that someone like my grandfather could see what was coming while so many others did not? Can we learn from his example how to recognize the signs of an impending catastrophe, and, more importantly, how to try to prevent one? With awareness and quick action, my grandfather managed to save himself, but he could not stop the tragedy. He could not even persuade some of his own family to escape in time. There is still much that we need to learn before we can say with confidence that we know how to avoid and prevent the “unimaginable” from ever occurring again.
Thank you for your interesting site. I have enjoyed your grandfather’s music for a long time now. I first became aware of it in the 1980s and early 1990s as a high school student. Seeing as I was always a different sort of teenager, I suppose that rebelling against tonality was the way to express my teenage rebellion. I wanted to be a composer and soon began trying on my own to make serial compositions. I know that this is heresy in some circles, but Cage never appealed to me.
While I never did become a composer, I still maintain a deep affection for your grandfather’s work. His music isn’t the easiest to listen to at first. However, once you build up some familiarity with his work, it becomes easier.
I never knew about what happened to his family in Europe. Such a tragedy! I am glad, though, that the Austrian government has finally recognized him and accorded him the honor due him. The Arnold Schoenberg Center is doing some fantastic work. Their site and that of the Chopin Institute in Warsaw are probably the two best composer sites out there, in that they permit visitors to actually listen to the music.
I will continue to visit your site in the future! Thanks again.