Show Notes
This episode is dedicated to the memory of Winnie Meyer-Ricard, the eldest daughter of Vera Haymann and Herbert Meyer-Ricard.
After nightfall in German-occupied Amsterdam, a small group of friends risked their lives to engage in a unique form of resistance: puppet theater. Behind the darkened windows of a safe-house, marionettes built by graphic designers Vera Haymann and Herbert Meyer-Ricard acted out biting satires of the bitter circumstances unfolding outside. This “fettered theater” gave the audience a glimmer of hope and solidarity in a time of darkness.
The Hermann Haymann Collection in the LBI Archives includes two vivid, hand-illustrated booklets which document Vera Haymann and Herbert Mayer-Ricard’s life in hiding in Amsterdam.
See them online at lbi.org/haymann
More from Exile
Exile released its first episode in November 2022, but the tale of how it came to be started long before that. On this special episode, we’re pulling back the curtain to tell the story of how this podcast gets made. From its origins in the mind of a dedicated board member, to the months of research and planning to select and shape episodes, to the music and sound effects that bring listeners into a time and place long past, Exile is truly a labor of love.
This is part 2 of the remarkable story of Rabbi Leo Baeck.
Rabbi Leo Baeck looms large in German-Jewish history, but he began his career as a smalltown rabbi in present-day Poland. Baeck quickly earned a reputation for moral clarity and quiet resolve, even in the face of a powerful opposition. As World War I gave way to the rise of the Nazis, the pressures on German Jewry intensified, and Baeck was thrust into an impossible role: guiding a community through its most dangerous and devastating hour. This is the first chapter of a two-part story.
In 1933, German author Lion Feuchtwanger wrote the first ever novel about the experience of Jews under Hitler. The book became a global sensation. When he finally received an offer in 1938 to adapt his most popular book for the screen in Stalin’s Russia, he jumped at the chance. The film was a success, but the decision would come to haunt him when he lived in California during the Red Scare.
In the late 1930s, one of the few places in Berlin that still allowed Jewish visitors was the Zoological Garden, which was established with the support of many Jewish donors. As antisemitic laws took over elsewhere, the Zoo remained a space for community and childhood joy. Eventually, however, even the Zoo would betray the Jews. Sixty years later, one man with fond memories of the zoo realized that an injustice had occurred against his family, and did everything he could to right the wrongs of the past.