Subject: Golden Oldie . . . Leica . . . .Great Story.
The Leica is the pioneer 35 mm camera. It is a German product -- precise, Minimalist, and utterly efficient.
Behind its worldwide acceptance as a creative tool was a family owned, socially oriented firm
that, during the Nazi era, acted with uncommon grace, generosity and modesty. E. Leitz Inc., designer and
manufacturer of Germany's most famous photographic product, saved its Jews.
And Ernst Leitz II, the steely-eyed Protestant patriarch who headed the closely held firm as the
Holocaust loomed across Europe, acted in such a way as to earn the title "the photography industry's Schindler."
As soon as Adolf Hitler was named chancellor of Germany in 1933, Ernst Leitz II began
receiving frantic calls from Jewish associates, asking for his help in getting them and their families out of the
country. As Christians, Leitz and his family were immune to Nazi Germany's Nuremberg laws, which
restricted the movement of Jews and limited their professional activities.
To help his Jewish workers and colleagues, Leitz quietly established what has become known
among historians of the Holocaust as "the Leica Freedom Train," a covert means of allowing Jews to leave
Germany in the guise of Leitz employees being assigned overseas.
Employees, retailers, family members, even friends of family members were "assigned" to
Leitz sales offices in France, Britain, Hong Kong and the United States.
Leitz's activities intensified after the Kristallnacht of November 1938, during which
synagogues and Jewish shops were burned across Germany.
Before long, German, "employees" were disembarking from the ocean liner
Bremen at a New York pier and making their way to the Manhattan office of Leitz Inc., where executives quickly
found them jobs in the photographic industry.
Each new arrival had around his or her neck the symbol of freedom – a new Leica.
The refugees were paid a stipend until they could find work. Out of this migration came designers,
repair technicians, salespeople, marketers and writers for the photographic press.
Keeping the story quiet, The "Leica Freedom Train" was at its height in 1938
and early 1939, delivering groups of refugees to New York every few weeks.
Then, with the invasion of Poland on Sept. 1, 1939, Germany closed its borders.
By that time, hundreds of endangered Jews had escaped to America, thanks to the Leitzes'
efforts. How did Ernst Leitz II and his staff get away with it?
Leitz, Inc. was an internationally recognized brand that reflected credit on the newly
resurgent Reich. The company produced range-finders and other optical systems for the German military. Also, the
Nazi government desperately needed hard currency from abroad, and Leitz's single biggest market for optical
goods was the United States.
Even so, members of the Leitz family and firm suffered for their good works. A top executive,
Alfred Turk, was jailed for working to help Jews and freed only after the payment of a large bribe.
Leitz's daughter, Elsie Kuhn-Leitz, was imprisoned by the Gestapo after she was
caught at the border, helping Jewish women cross into Switzerland. She eventually was freed but endured rough
treatment in the course of questioning. She also fell under suspicion when she attempted to improve the living
conditions of 700 to 800 Ukrainian slave laborers, all of them women, who had been assigned to work in the plant
during the 1940s.
(After the war, Kuhn-Leitz received numerous honors for her humanitarian efforts, among them the
Officier d'honneur des Palms Academic from France in 1965 and the Aristide Briand Medal from the European Academy
in the 1970s.)
Why has no one told this story until now? According to the late Norman Lipton, a freelance writer
and editor, the Leitz family wanted no publicity for its heroic efforts. Only after the last member of the Leitz
family was dead did the "Leica Freedom Train" finally come to light.
It is now the subject of a book, "The Greatest Invention of the Leitz Family: The Leica
Freedom Train," by Frank Dabba Smith, a California-born Rabbi currently living in England .
The Leica is the pioneer 35 mm camera. It is a German product -- precise, Minimalist, and utterly efficient.
Behind its worldwide acceptance as a creative tool was a family owned, socially oriented firm
that, during the Nazi era, acted with uncommon grace, generosity and modesty. E. Leitz Inc., designer and
manufacturer of Germany's most famous photographic product, saved its Jews.
And Ernst Leitz II, the steely-eyed Protestant patriarch who headed the closely held firm as the
Holocaust loomed across Europe, acted in such a way as to earn the title "the photography industry's Schindler."
As soon as Adolf Hitler was named chancellor of Germany in 1933, Ernst Leitz II began
receiving frantic calls from Jewish associates, asking for his help in getting them and their families out of the
country. As Christians, Leitz and his family were immune to Nazi Germany's Nuremberg laws, which
restricted the movement of Jews and limited their professional activities.
To help his Jewish workers and colleagues, Leitz quietly established what has become known
among historians of the Holocaust as "the Leica Freedom Train," a covert means of allowing Jews to leave
Germany in the guise of Leitz employees being assigned overseas.
Employees, retailers, family members, even friends of family members were "assigned" to
Leitz sales offices in France, Britain, Hong Kong and the United States.
Leitz's activities intensified after the Kristallnacht of November 1938, during which
synagogues and Jewish shops were burned across Germany.
Before long, German, "employees" were disembarking from the ocean liner
Bremen at a New York pier and making their way to the Manhattan office of Leitz Inc., where executives quickly
found them jobs in the photographic industry.
Each new arrival had around his or her neck the symbol of freedom – a new Leica.
The refugees were paid a stipend until they could find work. Out of this migration came designers,
repair technicians, salespeople, marketers and writers for the photographic press.
Keeping the story quiet, The "Leica Freedom Train" was at its height in 1938
and early 1939, delivering groups of refugees to New York every few weeks.
Then, with the invasion of Poland on Sept. 1, 1939, Germany closed its borders.
By that time, hundreds of endangered Jews had escaped to America, thanks to the Leitzes'
efforts. How did Ernst Leitz II and his staff get away with it?
Leitz, Inc. was an internationally recognized brand that reflected credit on the newly
resurgent Reich. The company produced range-finders and other optical systems for the German military. Also, the
Nazi government desperately needed hard currency from abroad, and Leitz's single biggest market for optical
goods was the United States.
Even so, members of the Leitz family and firm suffered for their good works. A top executive,
Alfred Turk, was jailed for working to help Jews and freed only after the payment of a large bribe.
Leitz's daughter, Elsie Kuhn-Leitz, was imprisoned by the Gestapo after she was
caught at the border, helping Jewish women cross into Switzerland. She eventually was freed but endured rough
treatment in the course of questioning. She also fell under suspicion when she attempted to improve the living
conditions of 700 to 800 Ukrainian slave laborers, all of them women, who had been assigned to work in the plant
during the 1940s.
(After the war, Kuhn-Leitz received numerous honors for her humanitarian efforts, among them the
Officier d'honneur des Palms Academic from France in 1965 and the Aristide Briand Medal from the European Academy
in the 1970s.)
Why has no one told this story until now? According to the late Norman Lipton, a freelance writer
and editor, the Leitz family wanted no publicity for its heroic efforts. Only after the last member of the Leitz
family was dead did the "Leica Freedom Train" finally come to light.
It is now the subject of a book, "The Greatest Invention of the Leitz Family: The Leica
Freedom Train," by Frank Dabba Smith, a California-born Rabbi currently living in England .
