things of which you are not aware. But you add new qualities which are essential for the continuation of your life. I was born in Stettin, which is now a Polish city, on the Oder River, which is like San Francisco on the sea. Iphano Blair: So you grew up on ships? BL: I grew up almost on ships, yes. My father paid for my education himself. IB: Was that a Jewish school? BL: No, I attended the so-called Gymnasium, which is a preparation school for the University. IB: But you never went to the University. What did you do? BL: I became a bookman after I left school. IB: How did you sell the books? BL: ... I first started in books as an apprentice ... my father brought me to a bookshop and they took me and I had to learn for three years. Without these three years, you could not be a bookman in Germany, no. Here you can be a bookman from one day to the next. IB: Were most of the people Jewish? BL: No, everything Jewish was hidden. IB: Did they know you were Jewish? BL: Of course, they must have known; they only had to look at my name — Loewenberg. Do you know where the name Loewenberg comes from? In the Middle Ages the Jews were not permitted to live in a city, so to live somewhere they had to have someone who took them over, who protected them. And one of the famous dignitaries, a count who took care of my ancestors, was a fellow by the name of Graf ... Count Von Loewen- berg. All the Jews living under his protection took the name. This is how we have all the Silversteins, the Applebaums, flowering names, they are all Jewish. IB: Was there much antisemitism when you were working in the bookstore amongst the people in the shop? BL: Don’t ask too much, you see it opens a book for me. My life with antisemitism is a special chapter; I don’t know where to begin. IB: Well, just tell us a few things to give an idea. BL: Sure, the Germans without being anti-semitic is not a thing that you can say. This is what made it so easy for Hitler to overrun the Jews. IB: So you have never met a German who is not antisemitic? BL: Oh, many! My first wife, she wanted to be Jewish. She kept telling me, but I had to tell her ... it’s not a question of a little water or something. You just have to be ... born. My friend Tepper ... he is not only my friend but a bookman like myself. He was a bookman at one time in the shop where I worked. Then he opened his own shop and became very successful. When everything was over [the war] he became a supervisor of the city. We visited him and he led us to the various places of which he took care. There were some memorials erected to the memory of the people who attempted to kill Hitler. It was the house where they were executed, the [would-be] murderers of Hitler. He took care of making a temple out of this place. He was instrumental in bringing these buildings to be a monument in German history ... my colleague Tepper.... IB: When were you married? BL: From 1922-1929. My wife worked as a singer in the cabaret, a nice girl, but we were young ... she still lives in Berlin ... she’s 82. We still communicate. IB: How about the fact that she was a gentile? BL: All my friends were Aryans. Nobody asked, like America ... a free country. Not until Hitler came; Hitler made an issue out of it and what an issue. He had his men working for that. Since I told you I was a person who is not politically minded ... a non-political person is a non-fighter ... I let it go. Hitler was there, he had his say, he took his life. He did the right thing. He delivered mankind from one of the most horrible criminals there was. Fortunately mankind did not have to come up with a trial against him. He made the trial himself, by killing himself. That is enough for me. IB: Did any of the artists know what was happening? BL: No ... not until it was too late. They were very naive. This one woman wanted to introduce me to Goebbels, whom she knew, as if talking with me, a beloved friend of hers, a human being, would make a difference. IB: Did you go? BL: No. IB: They thought they could change politics with art? BL: Yes ... I want to tell you a story. One time we were having a party, everybody was drinking, on a side street in Berlin. And across the street, a small street, was another house where arrived a truck of S.S. men and they rounded up all the people from the house. We continued to have our fun. Some of us made jokes even ... “What are those people doing? They must have done something.” Politics were always very unsafe; I always heard stories we didn’t know; we thought it was politics. IB: But the art scene was still safe, even with the Dadaists or whoever? BL: Sure, of course ... until Hitler. Then he had his Enartete Kunst (“ the decadent art” show). All the moderns had to participate, his showing of decadence of the arts. The artists had only one advantage: they were not Jews. I knew them all, from when I had the bookstore. They all came into the bookstore. I sold many of their works, engravings and lithographs by a very good Berlin publishing house. Everyone was buying them. They were reasonably priced, etchings by whoever was having a big show, the newest thing. I put up small exhibitions in my shop. IB: Like who? BL: Schmitt-Rotloff ... Pechstein, Hofer, Otto Muller, Bechman. IB: Who bought these works? BL: Oh, business people with a high life style, but they had a certain instinct, a nose for where they could find art. I once had a Teniers ... I think, the Elder — a Dutch painter. So I took it to this guy, the owner of Lysol — you know it is a German company? He looked at it for a long time ... I waited. Then he gave it back to me. He said he couldn’t buy it. And he told me from then on I should know that he never buys anything for less than 50,000 marks. So next time I come I should ... remember. IB: How about the artists, how did they live? BL: Well, we were in coffeehouses mostly. It was a big enclave, all these cabaret people were coming up from Vienna and opening theaters. Everyone was in the coffeehouses ... Brecht was there. Always talking ... some of them were very poor. There was this one painter, a friend of mine ... Hoextner. A drug addict. His clothes were ruined. He used to go around in the cafes from table to table asking each person for ten cents ... ten cents until he had a dollar fifty, then he would run off to the pharmacy to buy drugs. Cocaine. They used to offer it to me ... all the time. I never Jried any but it was everywhere, in the cafes, at all the tables. The artists would either have to accept it or ignore it. Hoextner always had his equipment with him. He would inject himself in the leg, through the pants, in the cafe, and continue talking all the while. He lived in a bathtub; he took me there once. He walked in a stoop with a wild look on his face. Sometimes we would go to the museums or galleries ... we would listen in on what people were saying and then say things to them. We had many arguments with the bourgeoisie. They would think we were crazy; we wore funny clothes. Everyone had that one thing that they always wore, one guy had these funny spats, a hat, or a scarf on which one would depend. IB: Sort of like hippies? BL: Sure, just like them. And we hippies used to go out all the time. I think they were sort of scared of us all in a group. We used to go to the theater or to hear music. It was a very beautiful time. People were coming in from all over Europe . .. many artists. Some were very successful because Berlin had the quickest impulse. IB: How about the thirties .. . during the inflation? BL: Ha ha ha ... you don’t know what inflation is. I was afraid to sell a book. Today five hundred, then the next day it is worth a thousand and next week a million. IB: Did people help each other out during the inflation ... was there sharing of food or something? BL: No, I really don’t know how we survived. People left their houses in the city with a bag with whatever valClinton St. Quarterly 7
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