The placid and well-groomed life of the Ellmanns was uprooted by the Nazi incorporation of Austria into the German Reich in 1938. At the end of WW1, the Austro-Hungarian Empire had been dismembered and Austria had become a small and unstable nation. To the economic chaos, including hyperinflation, was added chronic political instability. In 1918, Austria became a republic and a parliamentary democracy, but the nation’s political foundations were weak and it didn’t take long before extremist groups on the right and the left began to create havoc. One political crisis followed the next until Hitler finally solved the ‘Austrian problem’ by annexing it. In March 1938, Austria ceased to exist and a German province called ‘Ostmark’ was created.

There was widespread support among the Austrian population for the integration into Germany. Large and very enthusiastic crowds welcomed the Führer (who was born in Austria and had unsuccessfully tried to be admitted to Vienna’s Academy of Fine Arts in 1908). Hitler’s triumphant reception must have constituted a sweet revenge for a man who had been marginalised by Viennese society in the years before WW1.

Szigo and Paul joined the crowds that welcomed the Führer to Vienna. They were both fascinated by the strong leader, the parades and the extraordinary choreography organised by the Nazis, and captivated by the collective fever of the large crowds lining the streets. My father would have very much liked to join the Hitlerjugend (the Nazi’s youth movement) and was disappointed that he couldn’t because he was a Jew. Throughout the world, the 1930s/40s were a seeding ground for authoritarian, maverick leaders (Hitler, Mussolini, Franco, Chiang Kai-shek, Mao, Hideki Tojo, Perón, Trujillo, Somoza) and my father, a product of his age, would retain a lifelong attraction to ‘strong leaders’ (but not always to the individuals themselves – for example, he was a staunch opponent of Perón). Throughout his life, he gravitated towards leaders who presented things in a simple and forceful way, and who stood behind ‘law and order’. This would lead many years later to his unequivocable and enthusiastic support of Donald Trump.

Under the German Nürnberg Laws, which now applied also to Austrians, Christian women who had married Jews had to divorce them or face the same consequences as Jews. The fact that both Mimi and Fritz were baptised Lutherans made no difference to the Nazis. For them, Fritz was a Jew Fand Mimi a Catholic. Since for Mimi divorce was out of the question, the Ellmanns, like many other Jews, chose to flee. Fritz had anticipated the consequences of Hitler’s rise (‘What happens in Germany will sooner or later happen here too’, he had said as early as 1935), and had started to file for exit papers in late 1937.

Argentina was chosen as a destination because Fritz’s sister Lilly had emigrated to Buenos Aires in the early 1920s. Lilly had married Hugo Schwarz, a stone setter (in other words, someone who set precious stones into pieces of jewellery), in Vienna just after WW1. They had moved to Argentina because Hugo felt that at the time this country offered far better opportunities than their native Austria. Indeed, Argentina in the 1920s was one of the world’s richest countries, not just materially. Buenos Aires’s cultural life was famous the world over. Many of the greatest opera singers performed at the fabulous Teatro Colón, which had been inaugurated in 1908. The city’s wonderful parks and elegant boulevards, the shops and the mild climate, as well as the many Europeans who had moved there in the decades before, made this destination a very welcome one for people like the Schwarzs. You can get a feeling for what Buenos Aires looked like at the time by watching this film.

The Schwarzs did quite well for themselves in Buenos Aires. A booming economy meant that there was plenty of work available and Hugo, who set up a small atelier, had no problems generating a reasonable income. He was, however, a lot less clever at holding onto his cash, which was spent as soon as it came through the door, not necessarily always on family needs. Hugo was very generous with his acquaintances and friends. And he could easily be drawn into shady adventures, many of them loss-making. He was a tall, good-looking and charming man, who liked going out (I never saw him without an expensive cigar in his mouth). He had many mistresses, which he entertained lavishly.

It was at the Schwarz’s apartment in the Calle Tacuarí 986 that the Ellmanns stayed upon arrival in Buenos Aires in 1938. They left Europe from the port of Genova, Italy, on the ‘Augustus’ in September 1938. Upon arrival, the four of them lived in one room for a number of months, before Fritz found a job and they moved to a place of their own. It was of course a far cry from the luxury of the Glanzinggasse, but they were now safe. Although Fritz had made a lot of money with the sale of his first business to Osram, his second one, the lamp manufacture, was sold under duress at a very low price. This, and the fact that the Nazis levied exorbitant taxes to permit Jews to leave, meant that Fritz and his family arrived in Buenos Aires not quite destitute, but with very few means.

The Simkos took their time before they finally decided to flee Vienna. Szigo was convinced that the Nazis would tone down their anti-Semitism once another war started, which, he was convinced, would happen sooner or later. ‘They’ll need us, we are experienced soldiers!’, he used to tell my father, even after life in Vienna for the Jews became unbearable.

Immediately after the annexation of Austria to Germany, the Nazis began making life difficult for the Jews. Very quickly my father, who was 11 at the time, had to leave his school and attend the Judenschule until it, too, was closed. My grandmother Lilly was forced out of her home and asked to clean the sidewalk while passers-by sneered and insulted her. On one occasion, the Nazis went to Taborstrasse 52, where the Simkos lived in the top floor. It was a building full of Jews and as the Nazis made their rounds up the stairs, they arrested the Jews and sent them to concentration camps. When they arrived at the top floor, my grandfather opened the door and with a big smile welcomed them with the words: ‘Gentlemen, you must be extremely tired after all this work. Please come in. It’s my birthday today and my wife has prepared a delicious Gugelhupf. Please do me the honour of sitting down, you have merited a break!’. While pastries and coffee were served to the dumbfounded servicemen, Szigo told one witty story after the other (often about Jews) and made everyone laugh. After what seemed like an eternity, the Nazis left my grandparents’ home, not without having wished a very happy birthday to my grandfather and offering compliments to Lilly for her culinary talent!

On another occasion, as Szigo was returning home, he noticed that a member of the Nazi SS had arraigned a group of Jews at a street corner. He saw that the officer was nervously looking around him. Szigo, who didn’t ‘look’ like a Jew, went to see the SS man and offered his help. The officer said: ‘I’m waiting for reinforcements to carry these Jews away, but I need to make a call to ensure they know where I’m located.’ Szigo said: ‘Don’t you worry, officer, I’ll take care of these dirty Jews while you make your call.’ Reassured, the officer left. As soon as the SS man had turned the corner, Szigo told the group of Jews to run away as fast as their legs could carry them.

Life became truly unbearable for the Simkos after the Kristallnacht (Night of Broken Glass) in November 1938, when throughout Germany (including of course Vienna), the paramilitary SA organised a pogrom, destroying thousands of Jewish shops, synagogues, homes, schools and hospitals. After this event, Szigo and Lilly started to seriously think of leaving Austria.

This was easier said than done. By 1938 it had become very difficult for Jews to find a country that would accept them. Most countries had closed their borders. At the insistence of the Swiss authorities, to aid in their recognition, the Germans had begun to insert the letter J into the passports of Jews. 

After many months of fruitless searching, Szigo, Lilly and Paul finally obtained a visa for Bolivia. This was possible through the intervention of Rosl, Lilly’s older sister, who had emigrated with her first husband to Argentina in the 1920s. By 1938 she was an Argentine citizen, but this wasn’t enough for her to obtain an entry visa for the Simkos to her new home country. It was through good connections (and possible bribery), that Rosl, who was alert, enterprising and well-organised, obtained the necessary papers for my family to leave for La Paz, Bolivia. When the official documents arrived, Lilly asked my father to go to a nearby bookstore and buy an atlas, so as to find out where Bolivia was located. Szigo, Lilly and Paul then spent an afternoon looking for their new home, without success—Lilly had asked Paul to buy a map of Africa!

Despite this, the Simkos did find their way to La Paz, where they arrived on September 1, 1939, the day that WW2 started.