Traveling into Nazi Territory

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Added: Wed. Aug 13, 2008 12:29pm
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In 1937, Ruth Hamilton traveled to Europe to visit family in Denmark and to embark on a fact-finding mission for her radio program in the States. Her trip started out memorably when she came face-to-face with the son of a famous painter, and she even was invited to watch him at work in his studio.

Now, she's on her way to Germany. The following diary entry appears in her autobiography, "The Hamilton Saga."


(The Adlon Hotel Today compared to Berlin in 1937 below)


Arrived in Berlin on Friday, June 28, 1937 at 1:00 p.m. after a long ferry boat and train ride from Copenhagen. Had to buy Marks there -- Germany in financial trouble. No chance to cash travelers checks.

Train was crowded with Scandinavians -- mostly Danes going on a holiday. When the young soldiers with swastika armbands began custom duties there was a sudden sort of terror silence. Only the gruff, guttural German commands to penetrate it until they left and then muttering. Faces were flushed and fearful -- even kids were quiet and luggage lids were closed gently.

The macho young Nazi who grabbed my passport suddenly had other facial expressions, quickly gave it back after a big stare that went through me, the only American aboard the third-class car.

The tourists were talking in Danish about me and no luggage searching -- wondered if maybe I was a spy. Quickly I spoke in Danish and they hoped they hadn't said too much. I assured them all was OK.

Then I asked my seat companion about Hitler. She knew very little; the papers never said much. She had relatives in Berlin and would hear more of what was brewing. I agreed with her because I had in my luggage a copy of the big daily in Copenhagen that I read carefully to find any Berlin news. Only item on page said, "Will Hitler see Pope in Rome?" --  big religious gathering there. No warnings whatever. I felt perfectly safe until now, those ugly soldiers.

A brand-new checkered cab like those in the U.S. sped me to the Adlon Hotel, once the finest in Europe -- a travel book had recommended it. I was assigned to room 252, no need for reservations in Europe. The cost is $1.50 per day and very lovely, massive mahogany bedroom suite -- huge windows and fancy drapery. The lamps have fussy shades. There is a washstand with a bowl and a pitcher, plenty of towels. No bath -- there is one off the hall to be shared with other guests.

I had read where the Adlon family owners had reduced rates in 1932 so to keep the rooms occupied. Unpacked quickly to get down on the streets.

I walked down the thrilling circular iron stairway, delicately designed but so strong, elegant under huge sparkling chandeliers -- moviesh. [I stepped] smack into a large crowd of Americans arguing and fussing over rooms and luggage.

I stopped by the bar to look for a friendly face, and sure enough there was a nice reporter named O'Leary from New York City. We had instant synch and I had a friend. He told me that the crowd in the lobby was a hundred Americans and their wives here to an International Chamber of Commerce convention.

O'Leary told me that Hitler was to open the convention on Monday and would get me a visitor's card (Must make this event, a big scoop for my radio program in September). He also said to be sure to get a seat to La Traviata for tomorrow night -- Hitler's opera house and he always attends. I thanked him, hurried to the opera house and was thrilled to get a good seat in the middle. Only $1.50, could hardly believe a ticket to the opera so cheap.

Back on the street I felt excitement everywhere. The streets were filled with truckloads of young soldiers. They looked like high school kids.

Back to my hotel, all of the Americans and their luggage seem to be settled. I walked around the lobby -- very large and elegant. Bought a paper, Hitler all over it. Wish my German was better, but can get the gist of it. It is 2:30 p.m.. and I am going for a walk.

Such wide, wide streets -- this one, Under Den Linden, famous street. Glad my hotel is so close to museums and many places that I want to visit. Strip flags are everywhere -- funny long and narrow. Everybody seems to be mumbling something when they meet. Sounds like Heil or hail -- will ask -- then they salute.

Coming next week: Ruth sees "Jude" written on many of the city's store windows and wonders what the significance is. A young, starving artist fills her in on the horrible rumors of what is happening to the country's Jews.