Leaving Germany in 1938 - Escape to Bolivia
- misha pless
- Apr 28
- 12 min read
Updated: 3 days ago
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full charactered with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain,
Beyond all date, even to eternity
William Shakespeare, Sonnet 122
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
Robert Frost, The Road not Taken
Today marks the 90th birthday of my beloved father, Werner Pless of blessed memory. He was born on March 30th, 1935 in northeast Germany, in the port city Stettin, on the banks of the River Oder as it opens into the Baltic Sea. While his birth certificate states this city as his birthplace, his family home was in Eggesin, not too far away.
This is the story of the Pless family during the so-called "happy" years prior to their departure to Bolivia.
It is hard for me to put my arms around the fact that my father was born merely 6 months before the Nuremberg laws went into effect effectively forbidding Jews from taking part in every aspect of German society. His ancestors were proud Germans to whom the Jewish traditions were a form of cultural legacy rather than the central focus of their lives. The Pless siblings, Lotti, Hilde, Else, Trude and Franz (my grandfather) all grew up in Eggesin and had a Jewish upbringing but were first and foremost assimilated to German society, in what had been a relatively peaceful time for German Jews during the inter-war period of the Weimar Republic. Somewhat in jest, they were referred to as Dreitagejuden, "three-day Jews", that is Jews who go to temple during the High Holidays but the rest of the year they celebrate the traditions at home. Here one could naturally contrast this type of cultural judaism to the much more stringent and orthodox practices of the Jews of Eastern Europe who were less assimilated in their societies, and were far more religious and pious. Not surprisingly, German Jewry spawned reform Judaism as a movement which much later took hold and fructified primarily in the USA.
By the time it was my father's time to begin pre-school, it was no longer permitted for Jewish children to attend any type of public schooling. This was not only true in elementary and secondary schools but in higher education Jewish students were summarily dismissed and the Jewish teaching faculty contracts abruptly terminated. While my father's parents, Lucy and Franz, had a formal education in Germany in the early teens and 1920's, my father's destiny was different. By the time he was ripe to enter formal schooling, there were signs everywhere forbiding the entrance of Jewish children to public institutions.
My grandfather's family had owned a department store in Eggesin: Louis Pless Warenhaus. Initially the Pless family was told that they were obligated by law to hang a sign stating "only Jews" at the store. The store, in the heart of Eggesin, a small town with a population of a few thousand, among them perhaps 50 Jewish families at best, suddenly found itself empty of customers. Some of the neighbors felt sorry and initially showed some solidarity with the Jewish families. Later, however, even neighbors and decade-old friends abruptly ceased to show up and many close relationships swiftly unraveled.
A book written by Frank Wagner in the 1980's (Auf der Suche nach Jüdischen Mitbürgern in Ueckermünde) described the situation for the Jews in the province of Pomerania. Mr. Wagner, a teenager during the 30's, friend of the Plesses, and who after the war became a mayor in the nearby port city of Ueckermünde, wrote this very valuable depiction of the situation before WWII. The book, written with deep remorse for what happened to the Jews of his childhood, describes in minute detail what came to pass before and after Krystallnacht (November 1938) in the region. Friends, loyal customers, neighbors of the Jews - the Plesses included - began to aid and abet the Nazi regime, which by 1937 had become rabidly antisemitic as the National Socialist party consolidated power. Old friends suddenly became enemies and the Braunhemden, the brownshirts (sympathizers and acolytes of the burgeoning Nazi party), began not only to boycott the Jewish businesses but physically harassment of their old friends became routine. A monstrouos and chaotic, very painful scene indeed.
Alas I am not privy to the conversations which took place in the Pless household during the years 1936-38. I can only imagine that these exchanges and conversations were very difficult and heart-wrenching. Over the years I got to hear snippets of the conversations, somehow recollecting the feelings expressed at the time, by talking to my father and grandmother Lucy. Fear of the unknown was the prevailing sense. The facts spoke for themselves. A decision was taken to leave the Heimat, to leave Germany for good.
My grandfather Franz (right), all dressed up, on the beach in Ueckermünde.
This is the story of the Pless family during the so-called "happy" years prior to their departure to Bolivia. The narration might be full of apocryphal features but the content was so passed on to me, this is all I have, and this so it will be told.
The Pless family has its ancestral origins in the principality of Pless, in Silesia, as I have described in a previous blog tilted What happened in Stargard. The cattle dealers of the Jobstrasse.
My father recalled a certain story, namely, that the first Pless ancestor he knew of was a semi nobleman, Moses, a Jew who, by virtue of having served faithfully in the vineyard of a nobleman's court, was bestowed a certain degree of aristocracy. The degree to which this is correct would be difficult to verify. Perhaps records remain in the Pless castle located in Silesia. At least Moses did receive a certain degree of favor by having worked faithfully in the court of Pless, the principality in Silesia. The history of the Duchy of Pless, later the Principality of Pless, and present-day Pszczyna, Poland, is fascinating in itself. It reflects the rapidly changing geopolitical reality of the region, the fast changing landscape of the Prussian hinterlands, the border zones of Central Europe which underwent significant turmoil in the 18th and 19th centuries.
It turns out, so the narrative goes, that Moses Pless, my great-great grandfather, worked taking care of Prince Heinrich Pless' vineyard. As was the tradition at the time, Jews did not possess surnames. Surnames were forbidden in the region, especially for Jews and other minorities, who enjoyed second-class citizen status in Europe, and were excluded from living within the walls of cities. They peddled in and out of towns using the typical Jewish denominations, such as "Moses-son-of-David", but surnames with legal status were out of the question for Jews. It turns out the Duchy of Pless conferred Moses the last name of the region, Pless, and consequently certain legal status not otherwise afforded to Jews of the region with similar socio-economic position. And thus began the lineage of the Pless family. Of note, it appears that most of individuals who have this surname (a rare name indeed) are not Jewish. Most of the Pless families in the USA and Germany who I have located, are Christian. Jewish Plesses are probably the minority.
Later in the 19th century, the Pless family migrated northward, toward the city of Stargard. This city, now also in Poland, has the first factual indication that there were Pless residents with house numbers and demographic information. I reviewed their story on the blog tilted What happened in Stargard. The cattle dealers of the Jobstrasse.
By the the turn of the 19th century, the Pless family had migrated deeper into Prussia, now unified Germany. My understanding is that the recently enacted, more liberal laws of the enlightened German state prior to WWI allowed Jews to own business. This was indeed the beginning of a golden era of Jewish emancipation and assimilation into German society. The story of the Jews up to WWII is told best in the fantastic collection of Berlin's Jewish Museum.
Moses Pless had three sons' as far as it is known. Max, Sally and Louis, the latter, my paternal great-grandfather. The three sons settled near each other in the neighboring towns of Pasewalk and Ferdinandshof where they had their businesses, similar to Louis's in Eggesin.
Though it is impossible to reconstruct the life of a family, let alone the state of mind, based on the photographic evidence of my family in the interwar period, there are some approximations I could offer.
The family was close knit. Frequent trips to the beach in formal garb, demonstrate to me a certain level of affluence and comfort - certainly the Pless family felt comfortable and at home with the neighbors and friends. Many photos show my grandfather playing cards at the local pub with friends or at the beach with either relatives or friends.
Top: My grandfather Franz with his wife, my grandmother Lucy Pless geb. Joseph, and her father, my other paternal great-grandfatner Max Joseph, ca. 1935, Ueckermünde. Bottom: same beach, my grandfater ca. 1925 with his friends.
Photos from that time, during the relative calm of the interwar period, show that the Pless family prospered. The business florished, the Pless daughters all got married, my grandfather married my grandmother Lucy.
Top photo: The marriage of Hilde Pless to Max Jungstein, Louis Pless with his first wife, Anna Skamper, the other Pless sisters (Else, Trude, Lotti), their partners, and my still bachelor grandfather Franz. Second from the top: My grandfather Franz and grandmother Lucy with the 4 Pless sisters and a cousin, Elsa Pless. Third from the top: Franz Pless my grandfather, with his cousin Paul Pless and friends. Bottom: Louis and Mimi, his second wife, son Franz, and three of his 4 daughters.
To the degree that photos can do justice to a social situation, one can see that my grandfather was totally integrated into the local society. He played cards at the pub, he bathed at the beach with many non-Jewish friends, and was probably quite happy in his own skin. That, until 1935, as my father came into being.
The book by Mr Frank Wager mentioned above, cites that one of the first signs of animosity of this social circle in the mid 1930's emerged as the Nazi racial laws were being brought about in Berlin. The book highlights that all manner of false, but convenient, accusations began to be leveled toward the Jewish population in Eggesin, including against my grandfather, who was charged with improper behavior toward one of the employees of the department store Louis Pless Warenhaus.
Whether or not this is the straw that broke the camel's back, the boycott of Jewish businesses, the rules forbidding entrance of school age children to public local schools, and the palpable animosity of the populace toward the Jews, made the decision to leave Germany an imperative, albeit difficult one.
Difficult for one very important reason. Many of the members of the family felt they were German first, Jewish second. An example of this genre of personality trait is represented by my father's maternal grandfather, Max Joseph. During WWI Jews were allowed in front line batalions under special dispensation. Note is made that in previous Prussian wars, Jews had not been permitted to enlist. Yet Jews were allowed to fight for Germany during World War I. At the start of the war, 12,000 German Jews volunteered for the German Army, and a total of 100,000 Jews served with the military. A significant portion, 70,000, fought at the front lines. While Jews could serve and were even promoted to officer ranks, they were typically only promoted to reserve officer positions and not regular army officer positions. [1]. My greatgrandfather Max Joseph had been one of those cavalry soldiers and according to my grandmother Lucy, his daughter, he had fought bravely and had been bestowed an iron cross. This artifact I have never seen, but so went the story.
Top photo: my pround great-grandfather, Max Joseph, at the time of WWI, serving in the cavalry on the German front. Second from the top: With his wife, Trude, and his two daughters, Lucy (my grandmother) and Lotti ca. 1917. Third from the top: Max Joseph with colleagues. Max had become a succesful horse trader. Bottom: Playing cards with colleagues in Daber, his hometown, in the interwar period ca. 1930.
Max Joseph could not concieve of leaving Germany. He had been a decorated WWI soldier who had fought for the German nation, and felt that he was invulnerable to the upcoming threats of the Nazis. It has been told that his daughters essentially had to force him to leave Germany against his own will.
The reality is that according to the Nuremberg laws, once the passports had been forcefully stamped with the orange J (denoting Jude), the Pless family made the painful decision to leave Germany. How difficult was this decision is not altogether clear. I wish I had been a fly on the wall - or had the opportunity to speak to one of my ancestors - to inquire how heart-wrenching it must have been to leave everything behind.
By 1938 most countries in the world had closed their doors to Jewish immigrants; even the USA had strict quotas for Jewish immigration and many refuges were turned back. One could still move within Europe but the situation got more precarious for Jews by the week. The family's narrative, orally transmitted to my generation, described that one of the more affluent relatives, traveled to various European capitals with a suitcase full of dollars and the passports of every member of the extended Pless family. Apparently after unsuccessfully knocking on the doors of many consulates and embassies in various cities, including Berlin and Paris, he stumbled upon the Bolivian consulate in Antwerp. He was lucky. He got all of the passports stamped with transit visas to Peru and later immigration visas to Bolivia.
How difficult it must have been for the entire Pless family to shut down their business, to lock their houses, to leave all of their life's work behind, to leave the modern life of the German cities, and emigrate to Bolivia, a country they knew little to nothing about!
The Chilean "Imperial", a ship which departed Antwerp, Belgium on December 28th, 1938 with my father and his parents. This is the passenger manifest. Many other members of the family took various other ships. The entire Pless family was saved and spared the atrocities of the holocaust.
What followed was a long trip overseas. The next point of reference is a Peruvian port-of-entry stamp Feb 1, 1939, over a month since their departure from Europe. By then horrors of WWII had exploded in Europe.
The top photo shows my father and his parents, Franz and Lucy, probably on the eve of their departure to Bolivia. The bottom photo shows my grandmother, somehow still similing, also on the eve of their departure from Germany, standing in front of their home/business in Eggesin.
What followed - the life of the Pless family in Bolivia - is worthy of a different, lengthy chapter. Suffice it to say that many of the elderly members of the family did not make the trip and probably were gassed by the Nazis. Some, including the great-grandparents, were able to come to Bolivia and died shortly thereafter - probably of a broken heart.
Top: billboard urging the populace not to shop in Jewish businesses. Middle: "when you see this sign..." Bottom: the results - 6 million Jews and a vast European culture annihilated by the madness of the Nazi regime.
Many years later I traveled to Eggesin to see the house where my father had been born and the building which had housed the Louis Pless Warenhaus. It now accommodated the business of a hairdresser salon and a small kiosk. However, shortly after the Pless family left Eggesin, probably during WWII and thereafter, the building had been expropriated by the Germans and apparently gifted to a family which converted it into their property and business. A photo of this survives.
Eventually the Pless family moved on to start small businesses, first in La Paz Bolivia, then In Cochabamba, where I was born. The post war years were filled with poverty and difficulty as the Pless family adapted to a whole new socio-economic universe. Eventually however the family prospered. One thing is for sure, the decision to leave German saved the lives of countless of members of my family. What distinguished the members of my family who opted to flee, in contrast to many others who decided to stay, is a monumental story, a topic of further exploration. I owe my life to those who made the decision to leave the horrors of the holocaust, and Europe behind.
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