78
SELIG GEIGER WAS ON the floor almost immediately, brownshirts kicking him with their sharp boots and clubbing him with their batons. It happened so fast, from so many directions, that for a moment Selig saw nothing, heard only mocking laughter, before the pain crashed down on him.
He lay motionless. He spit a tooth out, tasted blood in his mouth. Every breath brought a sharp sting in his ribs. When he raised his head, he vomited.
“The Jew has two choices,” said the leader. “One, we take you into protective custody. Would you like to hear the second option?”
Selig staggered out of the police station, barefoot, his pants removed, leaving only his long underwear. Around his neck they’d hung a sign: Ich bin Jude, und ich werde mich nie mehr bei der Polizei beschweren.
I am a Jew, and I will never again complain to the police.
They marched him through Munich. With his broken ribs and concussion, navigating cobblestone streets in his bare feet, Selig could hardly move himself forward.
They prodded him with their rifles, mocking and ridiculing him.
Selig refused to reward the SA any more than possible.
Blood dripped into his throat from his missing teeth.
They paraded him around the Karlsplatz—the central square—and ultimately led him back toward his store. Passersby wore a mix of reactions. Some looked away entirely. Some looked on with pity, others with outright derision. Some saluted Hitler and taunted Selig. One even spat on him.
He passed police vehicles and foot patrolmen, none of whom reacted. As if the members of the SA were superior in rank.
By the time he turned onto Rosental, Selig had fallen down three times.
His knees were scraped bloody, his feet raw and blistered.
He heard cheers coming from down the street.
It was a moment before he realized how close to his store he was, that the SA thugs who had first accosted him outside his store were still there, now laughing and jeering at him.
Then he collapsed, about fifty feet from the front door, as his employees looked on, as pedestrians and shoppers stopped and gawked. The last thing he remembered was his wife, Marina, running toward him, calling out his name, before everything went black.