Edith Hahn Beer a
Edith Hahn Beer
A Story of Perseverance and Hope
Full Name and Common Aliases
Edith Hahn Beer was a renowned Austrian-born Holocaust survivor, writer, and lecturer.
Birth and Death Dates
Born on January 28, 1914, in Vienna, Austria-Hungary. Edith passed away on February 26, 2009, at the age of 95, in New York City.
Nationality and Profession(s)
Austrian-American writer, lecturer, and Holocaust survivor.
Early Life
Edith Hahn Beer was born to a middle-class Jewish family in Vienna. Her father, Max Hahn, was a successful businessman, and her mother, Paula Hahn, was a homemaker. Edith's early life was marked by comfort and security, with opportunities for education and personal growth.
As a young girl, Edith showed a keen interest in music, learning to play the piano and singing in her school choir. Her parents encouraged her love of learning, and she excelled in her studies, particularly in languages and mathematics. However, the rise of Nazi Germany and its aggressive expansion into Austria cast a dark shadow over Edith's life.
Major Accomplishments
Edith Hahn Beer's remarkable story is one of resilience and determination. As a young woman, she was forced to flee her home when the Nazis invaded Austria in 1938. She managed to escape with her family, but they were eventually separated during the chaos of war.
With great courage and resourcefulness, Edith assumed her husband's identity as "Herr Gerhard Heller" and worked as a secretary for several years. This bold move allowed her to survive under an assumed name, keeping her Jewish heritage hidden from the Nazi authorities.
In 1946, after the end of World War II, Edith was reunited with her husband, Leo Beer, in Vienna. Together, they rebuilt their lives, and Edith began to share her story with others through writing and public speaking.
Notable Works or Actions
Edith Hahn Beer wrote extensively about her experiences during the Holocaust. Her memoir, _The Footprints of Time: A Holocaust Survivor's Story_ , was published in 1994 and has since become a classic in the field of Holocaust literature.
Through her writings and lectures, Edith aimed to educate people about the atrocities committed during World War II and promote tolerance and understanding. She traveled extensively, sharing her story with audiences around the world and working tirelessly as an advocate for human rights.
Impact and Legacy
Edith Hahn Beer's remarkable life has left a lasting impact on those who knew her or read her stories. Her memoir has been translated into numerous languages and continues to be widely read today. Edith's courage and resilience have inspired countless individuals, including many Holocaust survivors, to share their own stories.
As a testament to her enduring legacy, Edith was honored with several awards for her contributions to Holocaust education and awareness. She remains an important figure in the field of Holocaust studies, and her work continues to inspire new generations of readers and scholars.
Why They Are Widely Quoted or Remembered
Edith Hahn Beer's life story is a powerful reminder of human resilience and the importance of preserving hope in the face of unimaginable adversity. Her bravery in assuming an assumed identity, her dedication to sharing her experiences with others, and her unwavering commitment to promoting tolerance and understanding have made her a beloved figure around the world.
Edith's legacy serves as a powerful testament to the human spirit's capacity for courage, compassion, and forgiveness. As we reflect on her remarkable life, we are reminded of the importance of preserving our collective memory and learning from the experiences of those who came before us.
Quotes by Edith Hahn Beer a
I signed their paper. It was a contract obligating me to spend six weeks doing farmwork in the north of Germany. If I didn’t show up at the train station tomorrow, the paper said, I would be treated as a wanted criminal and hunted down without mercy.
All the Jews of Polish origin were being sent back to the land of their forefathers, and so the two gentle sisters kissed us and packed and left. We sent them packages in care of the Jewish community in Warsaw, but of course the packages were returned because it was illegal to send anything to Jews. So we took the advice of a wily neighbor, wrote the address in Polish, and like magic the packages arrived.
Baron Louis de Rothschild, one of the wealthiest Jewish men in Vienna, tried to leave the city. The Nazis stopped him at the airport and put him in prison, and whatever they did to him there convinced him that he ought to sign over everything to the Nazi regime. Then they let him leave. The SS took over the Rothschild Palace on Prinz Eugenstrasse and renamed it the Center for Jewish Emigration.
Uncle Richard went to the café where he had been going for twenty years. It now had a Jewish side and an Aryan side, and he sat on the Jewish side. Because he had fair hair and didn’t look Jewish, a waiter, who did not know him, said he had to move to the Aryan side. But on the Aryan side, a waiter who did know him said that he had to go back to the Jewish side. He finally gave up and went home.
We were sent to the Judengottesdienst, the children’s service at the synagogue on Saturday afternoons. The maid was supposed to take us. But she was a Catholic, like most Austrians, and she feared the synagogue; and my mother—a working woman, dependent on her help—feared the maid.
We were taught that the French were our archenemies, that the Italians were traitors, that Austria had lost the First World War only because of a “stab in the back”—but I must tell you, we were never sure who had done the stabbing.
Mama had a decayed tooth that was killing her. Our Jewish dentist was no longer allowed to practice, but with Pepi’s help, Mama found an Aryan dentist who would pull the tooth. He wanted gold. Mama gave him a gold chain. He wanted more. She gave him another. He wanted more. She gave him her last. Three gold chains for one tooth.
But then the Nazis arrested Uncle Richard and Aunt Roszi too. They spent six weeks in prison. To get out, they gave the Nazis everything they possessed: real estate, bank accounts, bonds, dishes, silver. Then they left immediately, heading east. Russia swallowed them. My mother waited and prayed for word of them, but none came.
They wanted to know, you see. They were afraid that with our typical Austrian faces, we might be able to pass. They didn’t want to be fooled. Even then, in the 1920s, they wanted to be able to tell who was a Jew.
Often, the teachers would ask me what language we spoke at home. This was a not-so-subtle way of discovering if we spoke Yiddish (which we didn’t) and were therefore Jewish (which we were).