75
Port of Antwerp
Belgium
IT WAS GRAY AND gusty as the Jewish professor disembarked the boat with his wife, Elsa. They clutched each other as they walked down the ramp, the winds whipping off the Scheldt and threatening to blow the professor’s hat from his head.
He was returning from a two-month visiting professorship at the California Institute of Technology.
He’d intended to return to Berlin, his home, and resume his work at the Prussian Academy of Sciences.
But while in Pasadena, like everyone else in the United States, he had listened with horror to the details of the Reichstag Fire Decree and the subsequent roundup of intellectuals and political enemies.
Waiting for them at the port was Ludwig, a former student now living in Brussels. The professor had always remembered Ludwig as vibrant, full of life, eager to learn and conquer the world of physics. Today, however, the young man’s eyes were down, his head hung low.
“Ludwig, thank you for meeting us. Is it as bad as I’ve heard?”
“What have you heard?”
“That most of our department was taken into protective custody the day after the fire. That the SA stormed through the Academy and rounded up every great mind.”
“And not only the Jewish ones,” said Ludwig with a sigh.
“Of course not,” said Elsa. “The Nazis wouldn’t stop there. They fear nothing more than intellectual independence.”
They walked with Ludwig to his black town car as a porter trailed behind with their luggage.
“Professor, they ransacked your office,” said Ludwig, wincing. “They searched your place in Berlin twice. They destroyed the interior.”
“So I’ve heard,” said the professor.
“I took the liberty of visiting your cottage in Caputh, and—”
“It’s all right, Ludwig. We already heard. They ransacked it, too. And confiscated our sailboat.” The professor let out a dismayed chuckle.
“I can’t imagine how they could claim a right to do any of that,” said the young man.
“Then welcome to Nazi Germany,” said the professor.
“Whatever Hitler says is the truth, no matter how obviously false. Whatever Hitler does is legal, no matter how blatantly immoral. And anyone who dares challenge either of those principles is an enemy of the state.” He shuddered at the gravity of those words.
They reached the car. The professor and his wife sat in the rear. Ludwig started up the vehicle and turned back to them.
“Professor, I also bring a message from your friend Georg at the consulate in Berlin.”
“Oh?”
“He said that if you return to Germany, and this is a quote: ‘They’ll drag you through the streets by the hair.’”
“He’s probably right.” The professor rubbed his face. “I’ve publicly denounced Hitler for years, but even I confess that the degree of his brutality and cowardice has been a surprise.”
“Agreed,” said Ludwig. “So where shall I take you?”
“The German consulate, if you would.”
It was a mere fifteen-minute drive. The professor clutched Elsa’s hand all the while. He glanced over at her. He knew this would be hardest on his wife; she had called Germany her home her entire life.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” Elsa squeezed his arm and nuzzled her nose to his.
“I only thank God that we were in California when this happened. Or I would be visiting you in Dachau.” She shook her head.
“The only apology I will accept is one from a petty little tyrant with a funny mustache. And I don’t expect that anytime soon. ”
“I committed the most unforgivable of sins, my dear. I publicly criticized him.”
“But drag you through the streets by the hair?” She chuckled.
“Well, I have plenty of it.” The professor removed his hat, ran his hand through his unkempt white hair.
The town car rolled up onto a cobblestone street, before the Consulate of Germany, a large gray-stone structure. The professor and his wife strode in and filled out some paperwork at the desk.
They approached the counter marked CUSTOMS. The professor handed over his and Elsa’s passports along with the papers.
The clerk, a young woman, looked everything over. “You are both renouncing your German citizenship?”
“We are.”
“I see.” She held up the passport and looked at the professor. “Well, let’s get started, Professor Einstein.”