Terry Swartzberg: Memory of the Shoah in Munich – Munich

The clear late autumn day and the weekly market lure people to St. Anna Square, where, for once, things are almost as busy as in the nearby pedestrian zone. At first, hardly anyone notices in the turmoil how Terry Swartzberg comes cycling over the bumpy cobblestones, a mobile information stand in tow. Set up on the church forecourt, his stand invites passers-by to ask a question that they may have been carrying around for a long time: What happened in my house, on my street, during the Nazi era. Did victims of the Shoah live here?

The 69-year-old journalist and activist, known for his pointed appearance in the stumbling block debate and for his decision to wear the kippa in public everywhere, has no problem with the fact that his mobile “remembrance workshop” falls outside the framework of the established commemoration ceremonies. In fact, it is the only such pop-up stand for the time being – in Germany and probably in the whole world. It remains to be seen how many people he will reach, how conservative Jews will react, whether he might be accused of trivializing commemoration with his action.

It was also an experiment when the American Swartzberg, who had been at home in Munich for 27 years and liked to travel the world, almost exactly ten years ago, on December 1, 2012, began to put his yarmulke on wherever he went since then wear – whether this seemed advisable and safe at the moment or not. The self-experiment was consistently positive for him and has long since become a matter of course in life.

In the Jewish community in general and especially in his Munich home community “Beth Shalom” he remains controversial. The controversy has something to do with debating, says Swartzberg. But it is also about anti-Semitism that others have actually experienced or simply about habits that have been ingrained throughout life. Swartzberg finds it regrettable but understandable that, despite increased understanding, only very few fellow believers have done the same.

In any case, he does not fear hostilities or worse today at St. Anna Square. The police will stop by briefly at the beginning and end – after all, this is a registered event – and ask that if in doubt, it is better to dial 110 too early. Swartzberg says thank you, almost effusively, for the support. He also finds words of praise for the district administration department, although the officials there, as they explained in detail, could not give him permission for the Marienplatz in the pre-Christmas hustle and bustle.

As comfortable as he feels in Lehel or in his city home of Au-Haidhausen, where the memorial workshop also makes guest appearances, he is of course also drawn to Munich’s large squares and tourist hotspots. The expectations for the appointments at the Stachus, at the Haus der Kunst and last but not least at the main station are correspondingly high, precisely because he might encounter a somewhat more difficult clientele there than in Lehel.

Open detailed view

The area around St. Anna, on the other hand, once again lives up to its reputation as a well-kept, manageable neighborhood: Soon the first market visitors will be asking questions at the stand, including familiar faces from the first two street meetings. From the online database, Swartzberg can either give an answer straight away or send it later by e-mail. He is not very surprised by the first tragic accidental hits. For example, the fact that ten Jewish victims of National Socialism lived in a house on northern Widenmayerstrasse is not unusual.

On the one hand, many Jewish Munich residents only became aware of their identity when they were persecuted, on the other hand, depending on the district, there were also distinctly Jewish neighborhoods. At Robert-Koch-Strasse 1, the story of which was asked by a passing lawyer from the neighborhood, Swartzberg came across at least 40 victims during subsequent research. It was probably what the Nazis called a Jewish house, where they forcibly quartered the persecuted in order to prepare for deportation.

Not every conversation partner comes from the neighborhood or asks about his house: A visitor from Schwabing inquires about the local Mottlstraße, named after an active anti-Semitic musician of the fin de siècle, and thus brings the discussion about contaminated street names to the stand. The employee a construction company inquires about the property just across the road, its current project area.

After almost two hours, when Swartzberg, already slightly tired from standing for so long, is about to pack up, an older man arrives who, having grown up in Italy, introduces himself as a native Croat and asks about the fate of his grandfather, who was deported to Dachau for resistance activities. An unexpectedly difficult case for Swartzberg, the man has lived on the streets for a long time, now lives in a shelter and has no telephone or e-mail. Swartzberg asked for a written summary of the known facts, including contact details, and agreed to forward the request to the concentration camp memorial.

Open detailed view

He encourages people to look for clues together with aggressive cordiality, the self-ironic play with clichés (“I’m the only unmusical Jew”) and by asking curious questions himself – in short, with a “chutzpah” that has almost become a trademark. Travel tips, anecdotes and Jewish jokes are exchanged, going from the hundredth to the thousandth. The uninhibited, chatty atmosphere is slightly irritating against a background that inevitably makes you self-conscious.

Isn’t there a risk of an all too casual, superficial commemoration-to-go? Of course, Swartzberg doesn’t see his campaign as a substitute for the big days of remembrance and memorial sites, but rather as an impetus to take note of them and, even better, to research them yourself – after all, he relies largely on freely accessible sources. The hope for more Munich stumbling blocks, in agreement with relatives and landowners, also resonates.

As spirited as he implements his idea, it was born, as he says, “out of desperation”. Despite all the attention paid to the stumbling block debate or the “Faces for the Names” projections, Swartzberg would have liked more participants for his workshops right from the start, so the only thing that remained was the motto: “If people don’t come to the commemoration, then just do it vice versa.”

This doesn’t just apply to chance encounters on the street: Swartzberg recruited young people from the Montessori technical college in Freimann to work there. The student interns, including some who previously knew little or nothing about the Shoah, design posters, program apps or do research. Swartzberg expressly welcomes the fact that other young people are blocking lanes these days out of concern for the future – after all, he summarizes pretty much everything he has been doing himself for decades in the credo: “You have to occupy the street, there life happens.”