Read Online A Chosen Few by Mark Kurlansky - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mark Kurlansky
Ads: Link
in Haifa, in Palestine, where there were numerous Jews from Poland, or to one in Grenoble in the French Alps. He chose Grenoble, and for two years he studied there while Yankel sent him money. But in 1932 there was not much more money to send. The lumber business had collapsed, and the Poles were making it increasingly difficult for Jews to do anything in Poland.
In 1932 the Ewenczyks moved to Paris and found an apartment in the heart of a right-bank wholesale district on Rue Poissonière. Sweater-making was an emerging trade in the neighborhood. The entire family worked together in a sweater shop, and with Yankel’s instinct for trade and all five of them working, the little business prospered even in the difficult 1930s.
In 1940 all three sons, having become naturalized French citizens, were called into service in the French army for what would be a forty-six-day war with Germany. Oscar was among the thousands of prisoners of war taken near the Belgian border and deported to a prisoner-of-war camp in Germany. Emmanuel’s unit was captured in Orleans. The rest of the family fled to Grenoble.
Even then, as a prisoner of war, Emmanuel thought only of getting back to the shop on Rue Bleue which would now be full of fall merchandise. In all the chaos, he realized, other shops would not be producing goods. Emmanuel reasoned that the market would be hungry for his family’s stock. It could all be liquidated at top prices—if only he could get back.
There were more prisoners than the Germans could handle. Emmanuel found himself in a column of two thousand French prisoners, guarded by a handful of Germans, being marched one hundred miles to Beauvais, north of Paris. There they would be questioned and sent to a distribution camp at Drancy and from there to Germany. Later, Drancy was to become a central transitpoint for shipping Jews to Auschwitz, but this was 1940, long before Emmanuel ever heard the word
Auschwitz
. He was just one of thousands of French prisoners of war.
At one point, a truck with a French crew came to distribute food to the prisoners. Emmanuel took off his army coat and, looking remarkably like a civilian, started helping the French crew distribute the food as if he were one of them. After everyone had eaten, the crew—including Emmanuel—got back on the truck and drove off. Simply by trying to get back to his shop, Emmanuel had probably saved his life.
Paris had been left undefended and possessed by what was called “the great fear.” Shops and apartments were abandoned, and the banks stripped of deposits. The streets were littered with jettisoned belongings. The main boulevards were crammed with cars, trucks, hand carts, and bicycles—and scared people clutching the most precious belongings that were portable and heading south. On June 14 the German Eighteenth Army entered the city and hoisted a red swastika on the Eiffel Tower.
But while other Parisians, especially Jews, were fleeing, Emmanuel wanted to go home to Rue Bleue. By the time he got there, the exodus was over. The shop and apartment were deserted except for one non-Jewish employee. Nobody in the neighborhood seemed even to realize that Emmanuel had been away. Things were not bad. People talked about how the
métro
was working well again. The big fear had ended. The German soldiers didn’t seem as bad as everyone had expected. In fact, some people were starting to come back. Jews were coming back. Nothing had happened, and perhaps they had fled too hastily.
Yankel sent word from Grenoble: “You must leave Paris immediately!”
“But we have merchandise,” Emmanuel pleaded.
“It’s nothing,” Yankel insisted. “Come right away!”
“I’ll come as soon as I liquidate,” Emmanuel answered.
On September 27, 1940, an item appeared in the newspapers: “All Jews must report by October 20 to the
sous-préfet
of the arrondissement in which they live to be registered on a special list.” A Jew was defined as “anyone who
In 1932 the Ewenczyks moved to Paris and found an apartment in the heart of a right-bank wholesale district on Rue Poissonière. Sweater-making was an emerging trade in the neighborhood. The entire family worked together in a sweater shop, and with Yankel’s instinct for trade and all five of them working, the little business prospered even in the difficult 1930s.
In 1940 all three sons, having become naturalized French citizens, were called into service in the French army for what would be a forty-six-day war with Germany. Oscar was among the thousands of prisoners of war taken near the Belgian border and deported to a prisoner-of-war camp in Germany. Emmanuel’s unit was captured in Orleans. The rest of the family fled to Grenoble.
Even then, as a prisoner of war, Emmanuel thought only of getting back to the shop on Rue Bleue which would now be full of fall merchandise. In all the chaos, he realized, other shops would not be producing goods. Emmanuel reasoned that the market would be hungry for his family’s stock. It could all be liquidated at top prices—if only he could get back.
There were more prisoners than the Germans could handle. Emmanuel found himself in a column of two thousand French prisoners, guarded by a handful of Germans, being marched one hundred miles to Beauvais, north of Paris. There they would be questioned and sent to a distribution camp at Drancy and from there to Germany. Later, Drancy was to become a central transitpoint for shipping Jews to Auschwitz, but this was 1940, long before Emmanuel ever heard the word
Auschwitz
. He was just one of thousands of French prisoners of war.
At one point, a truck with a French crew came to distribute food to the prisoners. Emmanuel took off his army coat and, looking remarkably like a civilian, started helping the French crew distribute the food as if he were one of them. After everyone had eaten, the crew—including Emmanuel—got back on the truck and drove off. Simply by trying to get back to his shop, Emmanuel had probably saved his life.
Paris had been left undefended and possessed by what was called “the great fear.” Shops and apartments were abandoned, and the banks stripped of deposits. The streets were littered with jettisoned belongings. The main boulevards were crammed with cars, trucks, hand carts, and bicycles—and scared people clutching the most precious belongings that were portable and heading south. On June 14 the German Eighteenth Army entered the city and hoisted a red swastika on the Eiffel Tower.
But while other Parisians, especially Jews, were fleeing, Emmanuel wanted to go home to Rue Bleue. By the time he got there, the exodus was over. The shop and apartment were deserted except for one non-Jewish employee. Nobody in the neighborhood seemed even to realize that Emmanuel had been away. Things were not bad. People talked about how the
métro
was working well again. The big fear had ended. The German soldiers didn’t seem as bad as everyone had expected. In fact, some people were starting to come back. Jews were coming back. Nothing had happened, and perhaps they had fled too hastily.
Yankel sent word from Grenoble: “You must leave Paris immediately!”
“But we have merchandise,” Emmanuel pleaded.
“It’s nothing,” Yankel insisted. “Come right away!”
“I’ll come as soon as I liquidate,” Emmanuel answered.
On September 27, 1940, an item appeared in the newspapers: “All Jews must report by October 20 to the
sous-préfet
of the arrondissement in which they live to be registered on a special list.” A Jew was defined as “anyone who
Similar Books
