This is the text of a speech given by Daniella Krauthamer in Saint Martin Vésubie in September 2019.
Bonjour,
It is very emotional for me to be here today in Saint Martin Vesubie, to see for myself the village that my father for so many years talked about. It was here that as a little boy of 11 years, he remembers fondly the warm hospitality of the inhabitants of this village during the Holocaust when most of European Jewry did not survive. His and his family story is nothing short of a miracle as luck played a major part in his family’s survival and part of their miracle took place in this village. My father wanted to return to Saint Martin Vesubie for many years, to say ‘thank you’ himself to the inhabitants but in 2000, he passed away at the age of 67.
So maybe that is why I am here today for my father and his family. Let me introduce myself. My name is Daniella Krauthamer, the oldest grandchild of Naftali and Rose Krauthamer, who came to SMV with their three children, Simone, Julius and Suzanne. My father was Simone who changed his name after the war to Simon. I am from Jerusalem and here with my husband Zerach and my brother Moti and his wife Devorah, from Seattle, USA. With me is also my cousin Sharon Albert and her husband Steve. Sharon’s mother, Suzanne, my aunt was a four-year-old girl in SMV.
My father was born in Hannover, Germany in 1932 to Jewish parents who had come a few years before from Kolemeya, Poland. My uncle Jules Krauthamer was born a year later, also in Hannover. As the situation in Germany became more and more dangerous, they moved to Paris in 1938 and in 1939 my aunt, Suzanne was born.
My family lived in Paris until 1942 when my grandparents saw that it was too dangerous to remain there and sent my father and uncle to Deol, France to stay with a French Christian family. They were given a French family name and false identity papers. They were “good” Catholics and attended Church regularly. My father said that they needed to be careful in every word that they uttered in order not to make any mistake that could betray their background.
I do not know the year that my grandparents and aunt arrived in SMV. However sometime in 1943, my father and uncle were sent from Deols to join their parents and baby sister in SMV. I do not know the details of where they lived in SMV or names of a family where they boarded.
My father was around 10 at the time he arrived to Saint Martin Vesubie and from what he told me, he has good memories of the time spent there, not being able to have any comparison to what “normal” life should feel like, as the last 6 years he was not in any normal family life.
I need to say that I feel that the relaying of information to me from my father of that day in September 1943 when the Jews from Saint Martin Vesubie fled the Nazis and escaped through the Alps comes from the understanding of an 11-year-old boy, who conveyed the journey over the mountains as an adventure. I am sure that as a young child, my father was unable to fully comprehend that their life was in danger and the climb was a matter of life and death. He did tell me how difficult it was for his mother to climb the Alps. He also told me several times how one night how tired they were and instead of sleeping in the Italian barracks with the other refugees, my grandfather checked into a hotel. I do not know how they were able to register into a hotel, but it saved their lives as that night the Nazis caught up with them and those who stayed in the barracks were captured by the Nazis. He told me that the barracks were burned but I cannot find any proof of information on this, so I do not know if it is true or from his imagination.
My family kept on going until they reached Rome, Italy where my grandfather placed my father and uncle in a Christian boarding school. Again, they had to learn a new language and attended Church every morning and evening. My father became an outstanding student and became fully familiar with the ritual of daily mass to become an altar boy. My grandmother and aunt were in a woman’s convent in Rome and my grandfather hid in several places.
In 1943 my grandfather heard of a ship going to the USA. With luck, they were chosen to be five of the 982 passengers that went to Oswego, NY, USA. As the US borders were closed for all immigrants, they were guests of President Roosevelt and were placed in a refugee camp until after the war in 1945.
My father went to school in the refugee camp and celebrated his Bar Mitzvah there. There are different opinions of how life was in a refugee camp, but one can say that even though they were now safe, one cannot still call it a “normal” life.
At the end of the war they were not sent back to Europe, but allowed to enter the USA with normal immigration.
From Oswego, my family made their home in Brooklyn NY. The family became USA citizens. All three children attended university and entered professions.
Simon, Jules, and Suzanne had nine children together, born in the USA. From the nine children followed 24 grandchildren born in the USA and Israel and from them over 10 great grandchildren have been born and we expect much more.
My parents moved to Jerusalem in 1989. My father always said that in three generations, each generation was born in a different continent – Germany, USA and Israel.
My grandmother passed away in 1973, my grandfather in 1978, my father in 2000 and my uncle in 2010. My aunt, Suzanne, who was around four in Saint Martin Vesubie just celebrated her 80th birthday, celebrated in a big family gathering, attended by family from around the world.
I am here today to tell you that my family story is just a sample of other family stories in that during the darkest days of the Holocaust, there were humanitarian acts of kindness and generosity. Over 75 years later, on behalf of my family, I wish to thank Saint Martin Vesubie for their hospitality towards my family.
Please let me also say thank you to Mr. David Bernheim for organising this event as without it, I would not be here today.
Merci beaucoup and shalom.
Daniella Krauthamer
Jerusalem
