77
Geiger Department Store
Jakobplatz
SELIG GEIGER CLEARED HIS throat as he stood before some four hundred employees on the top floor, the third floor of the building, the section of the store reserved for household wares.
“You all know what is happening today,” he began. “The government is urging a one-day boycott of Jewish-owned stores. I do not expect this to deter us. I hope business will be as prosperous as always. I can’t be sure. I wish I knew.”
Selig looked over his employees, people as young as fifteen and as old as seventy, of various nationalities and creeds.
“I’ve never hidden my Judaism,” he continued, walking among his workers.
“But neither have I mixed my personal life with business. Did you even know I was Jewish? Have I ever asked any of you about your faith? The Geiger Department Store isn’t a Jewish store or a Christian store or a Nationalist store or a Communist store.
It’s a store, period. A store that has served Munich for ninety-eight years, since my grandfather founded it.
If I have anything to say about it, it will serve Munich for ninety-eight more.
We have expanded over the years. We now employ over eight hundred people with well-paying jobs, and we provide fine goods to the people of this city—people of whatever faith.
We have weathered storms before. We survived the Great War without closing for a single day.
We will survive today’s boycott. Let’s just stick to—”
“Herr Geiger! Herr Geiger!” Selig’s store manager came rushing up the escalator. “You have to come outside now!”
Selig raced down the escalators, nearly toppling over. As he ran along the tiled floor toward the main entrance, passing the men’s formal clothing area, he looked through the large glass doors to see a commotion, a gathering of people.
He pushed through the doors into the cool spring air.
A half dozen members of the SA, in formal brown uniforms and swastika armbands, were setting up barricades.
One was blocking a woman in a fur coat who was trying to enter the store.
Another was painting a Star of David in yellow and black on the window.
Others were posting cardboard signs: DEUTSCHE WEHRT EUCH and KAUFT NICHT BEI JUDEN!
Germany, beware.
Do not buy from Jews!
“You can’t do this!” Selig cried. “People can enter this store if they please! You have no right to harass them or us!”
The brownshirt who appeared to be the leader chuckled and nodded at Selig. “We have no right? Is that what you say? And who are you to say such a thing?”
“I’m the owner of the store,” said Selig.
“You? You’re the owner of this store?” The brownshirt tapped the end of the rifle against the glass entry door. “This one here?”
“Yes,” said Selig. “I am Seligmann Geiger.”
The guard took his rifle with both hands, reared it back, and slung the butt against the glass door, shattering it into pieces. The crowd that had begun to gather gasped in response.
“No!” Selig yelled. Another storm trooper shoved Selig, nearly knocking him to the pavement. He regained his balance and turned to rush the man, only to see six brownshirts, armed with rifles and pistols, gearing up for just that moment.
“This is not legal,” he said, as controlled as he could, his entire body shaking with rage and horror. “I am reporting this to the authorities.”
The lead brownshirt found that amusing. “Who exactly do you think we are?”
“No, I’m reporting this to the police.”
Selig stormed away as they laughed. He broke into a jog, running across Jakobplatz and Sebastianplatz as a light rain began to fall.
He reached the police directorate within ten minutes and rushed inside.
The station house was abuzz as he’d expected, officers in uniform milling about and moving men in handcuffs into a holding cell.
But there were brownshirts inside the station, too.
“I am here to report a crime,” he said to an officer behind a desk. “Members of the SA are preventing customers from entering my store.”
The officer, a jowly man with tired eyes, looked up at him. “You are Jewish?”
“I am. My name is Seligmann Geiger. I own the Geiger Department Store. The boycott that the chancellor called for was a suggestion. Customers weren’t required to follow it. But these SA men are preventing entry to my store. They are posting signs. They shattered the glass of one of my doors.”
“You are speaking of my men?” A man wearing an SA uniform approached Selig.
“Yes,” said Selig with hesitation. “Your men are acting illegally.”
“That is most concerning. Come with me, Herr… ?”
“Geiger. Selig Geiger.”
“Come with me, Herr Geiger.”
Selig followed him through the station, passing detectives seated at desks, the smell of burnt coffee.
The man nodded to a handful of brownshirts talking in the corner, who nodded and joined their leader, following behind Selig.
The leader opened the door to a room that contained only a single chair, alone in the space.
“Come, Herr Geiger, have a seat,” the leader said. “I would like to hear all about your mistreatment.”