Roselle Levy Kleinberger

Harper: Good morning.
KLEINBERGER: Good morning.

Harper: How are you doing?
KLEINBERGER: Very well today, thank you.

Harper: Could we begin by you please telling me your name, your maiden name, the date and place of your birth?
KLEINBERGER: My name is Roselle Kleinberger [inaudible]. Say it again, please. You want my maiden name first and then my last name?

Harper: It doesn’t matter. Whatever, we’ve got time.
KLEINBERGER: It’s Roselle Liebe [but she later says her father’s name was Levy?] Kleinberger.

Harper: Liebe is your maiden name?
KLEINBERGER: Maiden name. Yes.

Harper: And can you tell me the date you were born?
KLEINBERGER: May 18, 1922. I was born in Dahn [spells out], in Germany, near the French border.

Harper: How far from the French border?
KLEINBERGER: I would say about ten miles. I was never going across. At that time [inaudible]. Either you walked or you stayed home, more or less, at that time. My parents had four children, two boys and two girls. We lived in a very small town of 2,500 people. We had a synagogue and about 12 families. Previously there were more people, but as time went on, there were less and less Jewish people living there. In small towns, everybody knew each other. They always called us “dirty Jews,” and with that feeling we grew up. 

The first few years of going to school was in a Jewish school. We had enough money to provide for a Jewish teacher. As the years went on, it got less and less. The town was Catholic and had a Catholic school, and we had to go to the public Catholic school, where we continued our education. When they had religious services, we had to go home for an hour or so and then came back. Somehow we always felt we were Jews. My sister felt much different than I about this. She felt more comfortable. I always wanted to be in the background. I never wanted to make waves, being a Jew. I wanted to be peaceful; I didn’t want to be hurting so much at times.

Harper: So the town, you said, it had about . . .?
KLEINBERGER: 2,500 people.

Harper: What was the ratio of Jews to Gentiles, do you know?
KLEINBERGER: The town was mostly Catholic, and we were 15 families, so what percentage would that have been? 

Harper: Can you guess, maybe, how many Jewish people were in the town?
KLEINBERGER: When I lived there, how many people? I would say about 100 people, maybe. We’re figuring high.

Harper: Was there a Jewish neighborhood?
KLEINBERGER: No, it wasn’t like a ghetto. We just lived everywhere. We had a very nice house. We had inherited it from the parents. You were born there, and you died there. In Europe, it is that way. It was comfortable. But in 1933 it got worse and worse.

Harper: We’ll come to that.
KLEINBERGER: Ask me some more questions, please.

Harper: Since we’re on the subject, were your neighbors Jews or Gentiles?
KLEINBERGER: We had our Jewish neighbors who lived one house away, and across the street from us was a baker. It was mixed. My mother lived in the town for years, so she had lots of friends. My father moved to the town from a smaller town. In a way it was normal living, but because we were Jews they made us feel that way. At the time when the High Holidays came along, we always were told, “Now comes the Jewish fashion show,” because we got new clothes at that time. So it was that they always made little remarks.

Harper: Even your neighbors . . .?
KLEINBERGER: Oh, yes. They were friendly. I must say, it was a Catholic town, and we had nuns living in town, and they were very, very nice to us. They couldn’t have been any nicer. I learned a lot from them. There’s the good and bad in any situation.

Harper: Who made up your household growing up?
KLEINBERGER: There was my father, my mother, and us four children. My mother had a sister with us, and my father’s brother and sister lived in a house maybe a half a mile away. My father supported all of us, which must have been a [inaudible]. I didn’t realize how hard a job that was. He worked very hard.

Harper: What did he do for a living?
KLEINBERGER: I don’t know what you call it here. He was not quite a lawyer, a step down. There is a name for it, but I wouldn’t know it. He helped a lot of people. He used to go from town to town, if people had troubles — [Harper sneezes] bless you — to help them solve their problems. He was loved. He was well known. We had a textile store which my mother inherited from her father. He rented this store, too, and went to different towns and sold items, what people needed, and delivered them. So he was a very busy man.

Harper: So your father ran the shop, too?
KLEINBERGER: No, my mother did.

Harper: Your mother did.
KLEINBERGER: Yes.

Harper: And did any of the family work in the shop?
KLEINBERGER: We were too young. I was 14 years old when I left. I was the second oldest.

Harper: I want to pick up with the store. Tell me about the store. It was a textile store? Your mother worked in it?
KLEINBERGER: It was mostly material, yardage, and workmen’s shoes and leather, and we sold furniture. That’s all I remember really. Pillows. I loved to go in there because it was always so nice and cool [laughs].

Harper: So both parents worked.
KLEINBERGER: Yes.

Harper: Who watched the kids?
KLEINBERGER: My mother did. The store was right where we lived. The bell rang when somebody came. We were right there. It was in the house itself. It was very comfortable that way.

Harper: Where was your father from? Where was your mother from? Can you tell me their names?
KLEINBERGER: My mother’s name was Elsa Rosenstihl; it was her maiden name. My father was Julius Levy. He came from a smaller town, maybe five miles from Dahn where I was born. Their family lived there, and when my father married he inhabited the home. Like they do in Europe, when you marry a girl you’re promised you get this and this if you marry my daughter. That’s what happened [laughs]. We had a very nice home life; it was comfortable. I always was the one who never wanted to stay home. I was the adventurous one. On summer vacations I had to go visit some relatives nearby. I don’t know why I had that feeling. The home was comfortable; I guess I wanted to see other things. I didn’t want to stay home that much, and I’m still that way.

Harper: Can you tell me about your grandparents? Do you remember them?
KLEINBERGER: I remember my mother’s father. I remember him mostly laid up. He had some kind of a sickness, and he was bed-ridden. My father’s mother was living in a separate house. When she died, she was in her 80s. I do remember vaguely when she had her funeral. It was in another town. As a child you just have small memories of them. They’re not something you really can tell a story. I used to go to her house more than my own house. Same thing again. I always wanted to be somewhere else.

Harper: You were young when she . . .
KLEINBERGER:  I was ten years old, I think, maybe even younger. At that time we weren’t even allowed to go to the funeral; Orthodox Jews, the children weren’t allowed to go to the cemetery. My mother was very Orthodox, the whole family. Saturday mornings we went to shul, but here you do Friday nights. Every Saturday we were there.

Harper: Tell me about your brother and sisters.
KLEINBERGER:  My older brother was a year older than I.

Harper: What was his name?
KLEINBERGER:  Karl Heinz. After my birth, my mother didn’t feel very well, so my father decided to make it easier for her to bring the older, my brother Karl, to live with his grandmother just to make it easier, but it turned out that they kept Karl for years. My sister, for years she didn’t even know that Karl was her brother. My mother suffered a lot because of that. She used to go out just to be near him. I can’t understand how my father could have done something like that to his wife, not to have her own little boy near her. But my mother was the type of woman she just did what the man said; it was a man’s world. It must have affected my brother in many ways, too, I’m sure. We come to that later on.

Harper: And your sisters?
KLEINBERGER:  My one sister was two years younger, and we were very close. We really were. My younger brother was three years younger than I.

Harper: And what were their names?
KLEINBERGER:  My sister’s name was Gertrude, and the younger one was Helmut, good children’s names.

Harper: I want to find out more about your household. For example, what did your house look like? Was it on a street? Do you remember the name of the street?
KLEINBERGER: Yes. [inaudible] was on a main street, actually. The name was Wissembourgerstrasse because it was towards Wissembourg, which was a French town. It was on the main street. It was a beautiful house, three stories high, and we were very comfortable.

Harper: The shop was on the . . . 
KLEINBERGER: The shop faced the front, nice stairs going up. I had a happy childhood. Only just in any town there are some who are jealous. It was just jealousy, more or less.

Harper: What was your economic status?
KLEINBERGER: I would say we could make ends meet, not much more, because we had so many people to support, but we never did without. We always were comfortable.

Harper: Would you say you were middle class or below?
KLEINBERGER:  Middle class.

Harper: Exactly what did that mean?
KLEINBERGER:  At that time?

Harper: Yes.
KLEINBERGER: I was ignorant about it. I don’t know, I really don’t. All I knew is I was comfortable; I had what I wanted, never needed anything. On Hanukkah, I’ve always remembered, we never bought toys. My father and mother made them. That was the time. It was a nice home life, really.

Harper: You mentioned your family was Orthodox.
KLEINBERGER:  Yes.

Harper: Can you describe that more to me? Tell me what you did on a day-to-day basis.
KLEINBERGER: Mostly it was on shabbos. We had kosher food, naturally. The kitchen was divided from fleishig and milchig [meat and milk]. And the Orthodox, the women were upstairs at the services and the men downstairs. My brother just sent me a picture of the synagogue the way it used to be. It wasn’t anymore. In his mind, he drew the picture where my mother and I used to sit, looking down on the men. That’s being a girl, always looking down where the boys were [laughs].

Harper: Did your father go to the synagogue every day?
KLEINBERGER:  No, because he also had — I wouldn’t call it a taxi service, but people were going to a bigger town to buy cows. What do you call it here? When you’re on the farm, you sell and buy animal milk. There’s a word for it. I don’t know. So very early in the morning he’d deliver. It was about an hour’s ride to get there. He took and brought them home. Occasionally he took me along for the ride and I loved it.

Harper: And the holidays?
KLEINBERGER: The holidays, the house smelled so good. We did our own baking, and across from us we had a baker store. We used to bring the cakes over there, and they baked them in the ovens. So yontiffs [holidays] were great. Yes, really was. Actually, though, the only thing what I’m sorry for is that our Hebrew education was not very good. We didn’t learn that much. I’m sorry I can barely read in Hebrew. I love the Bible stories, and the stories about the holidays and so forth, but I’m sorry I never learned much more. I missed that.

Harper: You said earlier that your father was almost “too German.” What does that mean?
KLEINBERGER:  In the First World War, he was a soldier in the German army, naturally. He was shot in one of the battles, and he was wounded in the arm. For that he got the Iron Cross. He would have been entitled for a pension, but he was so worried that the fatherland would be bankrupt, he refused to take it. That’s how Germany was. So he got his thanks, yes. That’s one of the stories that seems to be on my mind a lot. He was too German somehow. The German Jews have a tendency for this. 

Harper: Would you say that he identified with Germany?
KLEINBERGER: Oh, yes. He was a Jew first and then a German, but very German. As you can see, our names are all German. Actually, my name was not Rosélle, it was Róselle. That’s more a German pronunciation of it. I changed it here. It sounded better.

Harper: I forgot to ask you this in the beginning. Do you know how long your family had been in Germany?
KLEINBERGER: It goes way back.

Harper: Way back?
KLEINBERGER: Yes. Some generations, really. My mother, her ancestors came from either Turkey or Spain. She was Sephardic. She was beautiful. I always envied her nice blue-black hair, Spanish type.

Harper: How about the synagogue? Do you remember the street that was on?
KLEINBERGER: It was called the Judenstrasse [Street of the Jews]. That’s the way; you didn’t think anything about it. It wasn’t that large, but it really doesn’t matter that much about the size, it was very nice. It was one of the only ones that was not destroyed during the night of the Kristallnacht. It still was standing. The neighborhood and smaller towns around it were all destroyed.

Harper: How far did you live from the synagogue?
KLEINBERGER: Walking distance, maybe five minutes. Everything is small in a small town.
Harper: Can you describe what it looks like, or what it looked like then?
KLEINBERGER: I could show you a picture if you’d like.

Harper: Can we do that later?
KLEINBERGER:  Fine, yes. It was a simple square. The windows were roundish, and then inside, when you came in, the men were downstairs, and there was a nice staircase going up where the ladies were sitting. It was very simple. The altar was in front, and near the altar the ark with the [inaudible] curtain over it. Then, what do you call the thing you speak from?

Harper: The bimah [lit. platform, or podium]?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes, it was in front facing the east, naturally. And I also enjoyed the Jewish holidays, like Sukkot. On holidays, we built a sukkah behind. At times we even sat there and ate. On Passover, we used to burn the bread, eat matzo. We used to jump over the fire. We had some nice little traditions.

Harper: Besides the military, were there any other organized groups that your family belonged to, secular or religious clubs or anything?
KLEINBERGER:  I wasn’t aware of it; really, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t know about their politics. I was 14 years old when I left. I felt at 14 I was just waking up, being aware of the opposite sex, just being alive. During the time, we were just modern-day children.

Harper: Were there any other members of your family who were in the military?
KLEINBERGER:  My father’s younger brother. He also was buried during some battle, and he came back and was mentally disturbed. He was hurt by it. He was not normal anymore. Not bad, but it affected him a lot. He was a single man. That’s why my father had to support the sister, the brother, and the grandmother. 

Harper: Can you tell me about your schooling? I know you mentioned some, but in detail, can you tell me about your beginnings of school?
KLEINBERGER:  The first few years, I went to a Jewish school. It was a one-room schoolhouse. It was only a room; it wasn’t actually a schoolhouse. The teacher lived in the house, and downstairs there was a room for the school. We were maybe ten children at the time. Every grade was in there, and he taught us, but the nicest thing we enjoyed, we used to put the play on [laughs]. One time we were dressed as Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. I was a dwarf, and I fell off the chair [laughs]. He played the violin; he taught us. It was the only music I heard. I never learned much about music until I came to this country. That’s why I would like to learn more depth. I love music, but I don’t know any composers or those names. It’s missing on me, too. I know I could do it, but somehow I have so many fears that I sometimes can’t accomplish what I would like to do. Really, that’s my problem.

Harper: And that was a private school?
KLEINBERGER:  No, the Jewish community paid for it. It was only for Jewish children.

Harper: Did the Jewish children have to go to that school?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes, because we didn’t have enough money to support a teacher anymore. At the same time, he performed the shabbos services in the synagogue. He was not a rabbi, just a teacher. Once he was gone, an uncle of mine took over. The congregation took over, like when you have no rabbi the one who is more educated, they take over and have services that way. My brother became bar mitzvah, my older brother. When my younger brother was bar mitzvah, he wasn’t there anymore.

Harper: And how long did you go to that school? 
KLEINBERGER:  Maybe I was in the fourth or fifth grade, then we moved. We had some Protestants that also had their own school. We went there for maybe half a year, and then they decided to give us to the Catholic public school. We had to go to individual grades. Some of those teachers didn’t like the Jews, so we had to suffer in that way, too. 

Harper: How long did you go to that school?
KLEINBERGER: I went until I was in the eighth grade, and I think I was 13 years old. But because the teacher I was supposed to have in the eighth grade was a Nazi, he refused to have me in his class, so they held me back. That was a big factor in my life, too. I thought I was held back because I didn’t keep up with the studies, not knowing the reason why at that time. Held back, it’s terrible. Luckily the teacher I had was very nice to me; that compensated for not being advanced. 

Harper: I want to continue by asking you questions about the political situation and things like this, but before we move on, is there anything about just generally growing up that you want to mention, or that I left out?
KLEINBERGER: The thing is, we had so many Jewish children. There were some Jewish children, they were better than us, and we didn’t see them very much. We didn’t associate with them socially, only in certain times. In certain societies, they have conflicts like that. My best friend was a German girl, and we were always together. We were in the same grade and so forth. Come Hitler time, she was just the opposite; she became a leader in the group of the German girls, and it was the end of friendship.

Harper: Did she tell you why?
KLEINBERGER: Why? Because we were Jews. They were brainwashed. They believed everything they were told. Germans like to follow; they’re like sheep [laughs]. 

Harper: Do you remember when you first heard about Hitler or the Nazi Party?
KLEINBERGER: As I remember, I heard most about him when he spoke on the radio. His speeches, we had to listen to them. I’m sure you’ve heard the recording of his voice, the way he spoke and yelled and so forth. I personally think he hypnotized people. We had to listen. Even in school, everything stopped; we had to listen. Once a week we had to have — do you know what eintopfgericht is? It’s a one-pot dish to save money. One meal was made out of one pot. Whatever you ate was made in one pot. It made an impression on me somehow. Then also, we had to sell flowers or something for some organizations. And that’s one thing I can’t do. I can’t solicit like some people. You go from house to house, and you collect. It was the worst thing for me. It was like a punishment, but I did it. I had to sell so many of them. As I speak to you, those things are coming back. I haven’t thought of it in years.

Harper: Besides these speeches that you heard, do you remember first knowing about Hitler or the Nazi movement?
KLEINBERGER: Some of the young men all of a sudden were wearing uniforms, the SS and SR. The SR was the brown, and the SS was the black shirts. From then on, the feelings against us got worse and worse. They threw stones at us, and — somehow I think I buried a lot of this. I can’t remember it all.

Harper: Do you remember witnessing or hearing about any anti-Jewish violence, book burnings or anything like this?
KLEINBERGER: No, I wasn’t there anymore at that time. I left in ’36. He started in ’33, so it was just three years in coming. I think in Dahn it came slower than in other places because there were fewer people, and the people were very close. We had friends, but all of a sudden they couldn’t talk to us anymore. They weren’t allowed.

Harper: Tell me when things first began to actually physically change for you because you were Jewish.
KLEINBERGER: I always felt the hatred from the very beginning, from since I was four, but it got worse in the ’30s. That’s when it started, when Hindenberg — he was one of the chancellors there — when he gave up to Hitler, that’s when it started to spread. Also, they used to have a whole group of workers coming, workers to come and build certain things. Being a young girl, we used to follow them, get excited when you see young men. 

I’ve got to tell you that story. I followed this [young man], and when I came home my father was so angry; it was the first time he spanked me, and I deserved it. I was just being a young girl, but he was so angry at me. I see him today yet. I forgive him because I did deserve it. Sometimes you get spanked for reasons you don’t deserve, but this time I did. You can cut it out if you like, but I had to tell you that [laughs]. Somehow I always felt like we were second citizens, not belonging all the way. I always felt not 100% belonging. But maybe it just was my attitude.

Harper: You mentioned this Nazi teacher holding you back. Are there other examples of things that happened to you?
KLEINBERGER: Not to me directly, no.

Harper: Do you remember any laws that you weren’t able to — you mentioned your friends, do you remember when that was?
KLEINBERGER: I left in ’36, and that would have been in ’34, ’35. I had to wait a whole year to get my visa to come to America because there were always some problems arising, so I had to wait that long just to come over here. And also, I wasn’t aware; being a child, you don’t always feel what’s really happening. You hear, and then it doesn’t make that much of an impression. Suffering, hurting, hitting, I never experienced. Accidents we had as children, but no, I don’t recall that at all. My sister could tell you more, but I couldn’t.

Harper: Did you ever hear your parents discussing, or did they ever discuss with you what was going on?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes. There came a time when my relatives in America asked us if they wanted to bring a child over. Actually, they wanted to bring my older brother over, and I talked them out of it. I wanted to go instead [laughs]. But he said he wouldn’t have gone anyway; he didn’t want to leave his parents. So I was the choice. From then on, my whole interest was to leave Germany. I more or less felt I wanted to go because it was an adventure, not realizing what I was going to do to my parents, especially my mother, losing a child and never seeing her again. It must have been terrible.

Harper: Were your parents concerned, do you think, about their safety before you left?
KLEINBERGER: About their safety?

Harper: Did you ever hear them talk about . . .?
KLEINBERGER: No, they never spoke about it, not in front of us. I more or less knew the situation, but them talking about it I don’t remember, no.

Harper: Do you know if they made plans or discussed leaving?
KLEINBERGER: Yes. That actually is coming later when I was here. The people who brought me over tried to get them out, tried to get them to China, to Cuba, to Argentina. It never worked out because they had such high quota numbers at that time. So it never worked out, and furthermore, there were a lot of people to bring out. My father would not leave his family behind. His sister, brother, my mother’s sister, there were almost eight people to bring over. How can one person do that? That was heartbreaking, and as a 14-year-old child, what could I accomplish? Not much.

Harper: I just want to get this straight.
KLEINBERGER: Yes.

Harper: You just noticed sort of gradual changes in the way Jews were treated . . .?
KLEINBERGER: Once we saw the uniforms, the young men, then we knew it was getting worse and worse. But to me, it seemed to be it was continuing the same, maybe a little bit worse. As I said, I always felt there was, I can’t think of the word . . .

Harper: Antisemitism?
KLEINBERGER: Right. Always was there, really.

Harper: Was there any increase, did you notice, after the Nuremberg laws were passed? Were you ever not able to go anyplace?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes, we had one movie house, and we weren’t allowed to go in there. Jews not admitted in restaurants. Actually, we never did much, we couldn’t afford it, so we didn’t miss it. But we weren’t allowed in many public places.

Harper: Do you remember when that happened?
KLEINBERGER: I was still there. I guess it was in ’34, ’35. Somehow we lived with it, just accepted it.

Harper: Just one day at a time?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, just one day. You’re not allowed to go here, so we just didn’t. First of all, we didn’t spend that kind of money like other people did that had more culture and all. They must have felt it more than I. I didn’t feel it. Maybe my parents did, but I did not because I never had it before.

Harper: Did you ever discuss this among your family, like why can’t we go to the movie theater anymore?
KLEINBERGER:  We just accepted it because it was there already before somehow. It just got worse. We didn’t question it. 

Harper: Was there anything else? Did you ever see anyone get beaten up or anything?
KLEINBERGER:  No. 

Harper: Did you ever have to wear a star or anything like that?
KLEINBERGER: No, not in my time. But my older brother, he went to Frankfurt, to a Jewish college I would think, and after Hitler came, they closed it and he had to come back home. He lived at home. There was a town that was bigger than ours, and we [decorated a clock?]. He used to take me there. But I’m also naïve. I just went there to have a good time. I didn’t listen to the discussion. I was too young, really. I was very naïve. If you live in the larger cities, you see more. It was a very small town, mostly farmers living there, so we can imagine.

Harper: I’d like to move on to about you getting a visa and that process, but before we do that, is there anything more about witnessing the early years of the Nazi rise to power that you remember?
KLEINBERGER: No, I don’t remember any violence except that they used to write on our house, “Dirty Jews.” Slogans. To us, to me, it was common, so what could we do? In school, I always went in the background. I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to be noticed. To this day, I cannot go in front of an audience and speak. That’s one of those things. I accepted it. And then you hope too that this will change, it’s not going to be forever. You didn’t think it was going to explode like that. That’s what I mean. I didn’t feel any violence at all. That’s why I feel so guilty. My parents had absorbed all this and I was spared. As I said before, I came to a very well-to-do family living in Los Angeles.

[Interview pauses for adjustments to equipment]

Harper: I’d like to begin with you explaining to me about your decision to leave and how you did it, the process of leaving.
KLEINBERGER: My mother’s cousin belonged to the Council of Jewish Women, and they had a drive on, I guess, to bring a child over from Germany. She decided to write to us and ask, “Want to come over?” And I was chosen. It took almost two years to get my papers together. I didn’t understand why the delay. Once it started, it worked out, and all of a sudden it was null again. It took a long, long time. Finally, I had to go to Stuttgardt; that’s where I had to go to be examined, if you’re healthy and if you pass the test to get your visa. 

After that, then I had to wait because all the ships coming back and forth were on strike. That’s my luck. The Normandy was on strike, and — I came on the SS Washington, and her sister ships, they were all on strike. I had to wait and wait until it was all straightened out again. Finally, it did work out, and I came over with another Jewish girl from a nearby town. She was on the same boat, and my parents got in contact with her [inaudible] she was a little bit older, to look out for me. 

From Dahn, I had to take a train to Hamburg, where we left. That was almost across the whole Germany on the train trip. This was exciting already for me. I left, my father was very ill. He had diphtheria. He would have taken me, but he couldn’t, so he had to ask another relative to take me up there. Sad enough as it was, I left all kinds of different pains behind, too. I was 14 years old, speaking not one word of English. If I think about it, I don’t think I could do it again, but I just went onward and everything worked out, getting on the boat and — may I stop a minute, please?

Harper: Sure.

[There is no pause as would be expected, but perhaps there was a pause that was edited out of the recording; the following statement by Kleinberger seems to begin in the middle of a sentence.]

KLEINBERGER:  Kind of collect other young lady to more or less, not take care of me, but be near me at times. She didn’t like the idea very much because she was booked in a cabin with one lady, and I was booked in one with four beds in it. Because of me she had to move to mine with the four, and she was very upset about it. This gave me a very bad feeling from the very beginning. I don’t want to hurt people’s feelings. I was seasick for six days out of eight [laughs]. It was the middle of December; it was very stormy. I never was on a boat before. It was really hard.

Harper: Can I interrupt you?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes.

Harper: Tell me about leaving your parents. What did you . . .?
KLEINBERGER: I don’t remember. I thought I was so callous. I wasn’t loving enough. I just wanted to get going, like a child. It was as if I’m going to go on a picnic or something. That’s what hurts me so much now.

Harper: Did you realize, or did you think, “Oh, I’ll see them maybe in a few years.”
KLEINBERGER: Yes, of course. That was the whole idea for me to go.

Harper: You were just like going on a vacation in your mind? 
KLEINBERGER:  No, not vacation. I knew I was going to stay there, but slowly bringing my parents over. That was the whole idea.

Harper: Did you understand why you were going exactly?
KLEINBERGER: Of course. Things were getting worse and worse at home. The Jews were not allowed to — that was the purpose. The whole trip is to get the people I’m seeing to make it possible for everybody to come and follow. I don’t know how long it was going to take, but after I came over to America, it was too easy for me to forget my parents. They gave me tennis lessons, swimming lessons, you name it. Being a greenhorn, I didn’t know what it was all about. This was to me like a miracle. Coming to California, the most beautiful state, I thought I was in paradise when I arrived. It took the long trip from New York. I landed in New York. To get to Los Angeles is another story.

Harper: You landed in New York?
KLEINBERGER: New York.

Harper: And who met you?
KLEINBERGER: The Council of Jewish Women. I met my father’s oldest sister who lived in Brooklyn for quite some years. She picked me up for one night, and she took me to her home. The next morning, she had to bring me back to the boat because I was supposed to go on to Chicago. It was too much happening to me at one time. I was on the subway the first day I arrived, and seeing so many people; it was overwhelming, really. The next morning, they brought me back and they put me on the train. I had a sleeper. They make beds out of, a berth. And I met my first black man. I never saw one before. The way we were taught, that they had big lips [inaudible]. He was the nicest person you could imagine; he helped me so much. I couldn’t even talk to him, but he was taking care of me, really, and I’ll never forget that.

Not knowing the language and sitting there, I couldn’t speak. How long did it take at that time from New York to Chicago? It was an overnight trip. Then getting into Chicago, in the station, what am I going to do now? Who’s going to be there? I didn’t know anybody. I was so frightened. What’s going to happen next? But luckily, I looked out and saw a cousin of mine who came previously to Chicago. He was holding my briefcase, and that saved my life, I think, at that time. I saw a face I knew. Because actually, the people who picked me up there were [inaudible]. I never saw them before. Anybody could have picked me up. I stayed with them, the cousins [inaudible] they lived in Chicago, a beautiful home. I didn’t know where I was. Everything was exciting. All over that time I felt like I forgot my parents; I didn’t think of them enough. I didn’t think of their suffering or what they’re doing. To this day, I just can’t get over the feeling. I can’t adjust to it. That’s my biggest hang-up, not doing what I wanted to do, and then having such a good time besides. I feel like crying some. A lot of time I do that, too. 

And then I came to people, they were very well to do. We lived in Los Angeles, where Wilshire Boulevard is, between La Brea and Crenshaw. There was a private park. This is where I lived. There was a garden in front of the house; we had a mansion there, really.

Harper: Who were those people that you lived with?
KLEINBERGER: Their name was Sheinman.

Harper: And they weren’t relatives?
KLEINBERGER: She was a relative, but he was not. To learn the English language, they put me in a convent.

Harper: In Los Angeles?
KLEINBERGER: In Hollywood. Luckily, I was used to nuns. Otherwise, I would have been [inaudible]. But they were very nice to me. I lived there; I was in boarding school. I did not hear German spoken at all. I just had to learn English.

Harper: Did the Sheinmans speak German?
KLEINBERGER:  She spoke German, yes. Her father was born in Germany. He was my great uncle. She spoke German very well. She taught it in school. This helped. But then they decided that because she spoke German that I wouldn’t try hard enough to speak the English language, so I just had to pick it up. Within a half of a year, I spoke it. But I had to live there. All of a sudden, I was aware. I said, “You know, Roselle, you’re thinking in English now.” But it was work. I started from kindergarten, the books. I had to go through the whole “Jane follow dog,” those kind of books, to learn the language. I went through the years. The nuns were really very nice, but the thing is, they picked me up once for the whole weekend, and the next was only Sundays. So I was taken away from my parents and lived with strangers ; I didn’t even have a family or anybody close. What I missed is love.

Harper: Tell me more about the convent.
KLEINBERGER: [laughs] That’s an interesting story.

Harper: Obviously they realized you were Jewish?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, because there was another girl there from Mexico, also learning English, but the two of us [inaudible]. I couldn’t even speak to her; she spoke Spanish and I spoke German, so we couldn’t even converse either. It’s a hard way to learn, but it’s the best way.

Harper: Did they try to get you to participate in their . . .?
KLEINBERGER: No, not at all. They knew that all I was there was to learn English. They didn’t influence me in any way at all. Even the Mother Superior was — one weekend I was sitting down; at the time we were darning stockings yet. She came over and told me, “Roselle, you know there’s an easier way of doing this.” She showed me how to do it. I’ll never forget that [laughs]. They were really very nice. But just strange people only — in the street, you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t explain anything. Sometimes I wonder how I did survive.

Harper: Was it strange for you to be out of a Jewish environment since you grew up in an Orthodox home and all of a sudden . . .?
KLEINBERGER: There was nothing. I had no more religion after that. Even the people I lived with, they didn’t keep anything. I got no more Jewish education.

Harper: They didn’t go to synagogue?
KLEINBERGER: No, only the uncle on Rosh Hashanah he took me to a Reform temple on Wilshire Boulevard. It was a beautiful temple. After I met my husband, I came back. He was Jewish, too. But all those years there was no Jewishness at all. Christmas, yes, but not Jewishness.

Harper: What did you think of the Los Angeles Reform synagogue compared to what you grew up with?
KLEINBERGER: Oh, to me it was church [laughs]. It wasn’t a service. It was more like a beautiful cathedral. That’s what it looked like. After I started eighth grade in junior high school, that’s when I started to continue our education here in Los Angeles. I graduated junior high, then on to high school.

Harper: I just want to ask one more question about this. Did you ever miss being more observant, or did you wish you could continue a more observant life?
KLEINBERGER:  Not really. No, because I didn’t enjoy learning Hebrew. The teacher we had, I don’t want to describe him; he didn’t do his job very well. He didn’t make it interesting enough; it just was more like a chore. I’m really sorry. I can read after a fashion. I can follow the prayers. But if I go to a service, I have to read it in English.

Harper: Do you remember what year you started in American public school?
KLEINBERGER: ’36 I came. 1938. I went from junior high to the eleventh grade, a junior, to Los Angeles High School. I was never a student; I studied, but I just used to skin by my teeth. I made it, but I didn’t know how to study right somehow. They never encouraged me. They never were there to help me. I was in good hands, but it was more, what shall I say, not love, but what’s the other thing you get, when you get presents instead of love? What do you call that? Well, whatever. There was nothing missing, but I never was — I called her “aunt” because being born in Germany and she was older, I couldn’t call her by her first name. It wasn’t done. I called her Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jess. They were my family. I was entertained all the time. I was always enjoying life.

I wrote my parents. My sister told me, “Roselle, if your letter didn’t come on time, your mother used to worry.” When I speak to her now, now I know how my mother felt. I never pictured her during those years.

Harper: So what did your parents write to you about? Did they write to you about their situation?
KLEINBERGER: No, they couldn’t write 100%. They couldn’t write too much either. It hurt. It’s a big pain now just to talk about it.

Harper: When you were in high school, as you were getting older, did you realize the severity of the situation in Germany?
KLEINBERGER: Well, it was the radio and reading the newspapers, but at the time we were trying to get them out. You go to different organizations and you see what you can do. I always felt I should have done more. I don’t think they tried hard enough. It was my opinion, but I wasn’t there when many things were done, so I blame myself. Somebody else would have been maybe stronger; a different personality could have done maybe more than I did. There are people who are pushers, and I’m not. Like I had a husband who was domineering, and I just did what he wanted to do. At one time I didn’t have no more opinions. That’s the kind of character I thought I was. If I would have to do it over again — you don’t get a second chance. That’s my hurt.

Harper: Were you able to bring anyone else from your family over?
KLEINBERGER: After the war. My father always told the whole family that this thing is going to have an end. It had to stop. Once that is over, we’re all going to Roselle. They had my address, they were going to get in touch with me, and they were going to come over here. I was going to be able — my sister, they all had my address. That’s another story. Finally, I received after the war where they were. My parents were sent to southern France into a holding camp. It was not a concentration camp; it was a holding camp. It had political prisoners, and they sent the Jews there, too.

Harper: Do you remember what it was called?
KLEINBERGER: [inaudible, name of camp] Yes, there were two of them. They were camps; they were holding them. They didn’t have too much to eat, but they were not suffering. There wasn’t torture or anything, just not the best of conditions. My sister was actually taught through ORT [Organization for Rehabilitation through Training] how to take care of children, learned how to sew. That was out of camp. In the evening they had to go back again. I think ORT is the best Jewish organization there is, but unfortunately, we don’t have a chapter here in Oregon, Portland. I would be a member. They helped her so much. My younger brother, too, they taught him how to be a tailor. But she always wrote, “Roselle, I always have your picture with me. When this is over, I’m going to see you again.”

Harper: Let me interrupt. So the whole family was sent to Gurs?
KLEINBERGER: Dahn was close to the French border; the [inaudible word] line was there, the Maginot. A lot of Dahners were evacuated away from that area. The Jews, they went first, and they sent them to Germany, Mannheim, that area. The Jewish organizations found them a place to live and so forth. They lived there, I think for a year, before they shipped them to southern France. They were dislocated, many times were in different places.

Harper: Did your brothers and sister and parents survive the war?
KLEINBERGER: No. My father was in Dachau. They didn’t survive the war. They were burned in the ovens.

Harper: Tell me then the progression of what happened to them from Gurs.
KLEINBERGER: There was a story before that. My brother, who was 17 years old, and my father, they went to Dachau. One of the camps was Dachau.

Harper: When were they taken there?
KLEINBERGER: It was before the war, you’re right. It’s a concentration camp, and my father was there; he didn’t even know that my brother was there at the same time. They didn’t even know at the time they were together. After a few months, my father went back home, and my brother, they released him, too, with the understanding that within a certain time he was going to leave Germany. So he left with the Kinder, the children’s movement that sent him to London with a group. That’s where he spent the war years. But he was the only one who left Germany. My father went back to Dahn, where he lived before, until they sent him to Mannheim and on to southern France. 

[Sound of water boiling]

Maybe I should take this off. Excuse me a minute. It’s boiling again. Just pull the thing out of there. Thank you.

My brother lived in London through the war years. He went through the blitzkrieg and more. My sister was with my parents, and my younger brother was in southern France. I don’t know how long they were there. The order came through; they were going to send all the Germans back to a concentration camp. Now it was time for them to be sent back. 

My sister was out of camp at that time, and she wanted to come back just to be with her mother, to go home. She was very close to her mother. My younger brother was [inaudible], “Don’t you dare come back. You escape, and after this war, you find your sister. We don’t know what’s going to happen to you, but that’s our goal.” She listened to her brother. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here anymore. She went through hell. She lived in barns. At some times she had a job. I don’t know how often she was raped. This kind of a story. Nobody had to know that she was German. She was hiding. There were some Jews in Southern France, and sometimes they hired her taking care of children, or a maid, whatever. She went through hell.

Harper: Did she escape? I don’t quite understand. 
KLEINBERGER: She escaped. She just took off from Gurs. 

Harper: So she survived?
KLEINBERGER: She survived, and eventually she found a friend. It’s amazing how in some stories you meet again. Also from Dahn. Became very good friends, and they were always together. They’re still together today. They wound up later on in Limoges, in the southern part of France. The refugees found each other and lived together and made a go of it. Then one day, when I came to New York — that’s another story. Let’s stop for a minute and let me collect my thoughts, how I should continue. I’m getting ahead of the story. 

[Pause]

KLEINBERGER: I want to continue on my sister’s story, is that all right?

Harper: That’s fine.
KLEINBERGER: I was married. I lived in New York on Riverside Drive. We moved there recently. A lady come over and said, “Roselle, I think you have a letter lying over there near the window. I think it’s yours.” I looked at it, and it was a card from my sister who was trying to locate me from where she was living in southern France. That’s how I found her, where she was. I couldn’t believe it because we had moved recently, and it could have gotten in the lost letter box, but it found me. From then on, I was in contact with her. I sent stuff over to her and brought her over in 1947.

Harper: Is she still alive?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, she was here a week ago.

Harper: Where is here?
KLEINBERGER: San Diego. She has a nice family, too.

Harper: So your sister escaped . . .
KLEINBERGER: Yes.

Harper: And one brother was in London . . .
KLEINBERGER: London.

Harper And who was the other brother?
KLEINBERGER: That’s another sad story. Where do you want me to continue?

Harper: With the brother.
KLEINBERGER: Which one?

Harper: One escaped to London, the sister was in hiding, you were in the United States, and then . . .
KLEINBERGER: The other brother had been sent back to Germany. But I don’t know what camp they were in. 

Harper: Was he with your parents?
KLEINBERGER: I don’t know that. All I know is that my parents were gassed. That’s not true, either. The story’s going to jump from one thing to another now. On the day I was married, a letter came that my parents perished in one of the camps. They didn’t tell me right away, but that was the day when the news arrived. My brother, I didn’t know where he was, just my parents. But I found out what happened to my younger brother when I was back in Germany, on the visit they asked us to come. He survived all the years, and when the American soldiers came into the camp to rescue them, take him out, he collapsed. He couldn’t make it anymore. That’s the saddest of sad things. That topped it all. He was ten years old when I saw him last.

Harper: Do you know what year your parents were killed?
KLEINBERGER: It was ’42. My brother lived in London and he married in London. Also in 1947, when I brought my sister over, she came to visit him first before she came to America, and I wrote him, too. I said, “Anytime you want to come, let me know. I’ll work on papers for you.” He said, “Oh, no. Everything’s fine.” A month later he said, “Please send papers.” I brought both my sister and brother over. I think God made me survive just to do that. I have to believe that [sobs].

Harper: Do you want to take a break?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, please.

[Pause]

Harper: I’d like to ask you about what it was like living in the United States during the war years. How aware were you of what was going on? When did you first find out about the severity of the situation?
KLEINBERGER: That’s one of my pains, too, that I wasn’t aware of that much. First of all, I lived in Los Angeles for three years, then the folks decided to sell their beautiful house and move down to Miami Beach. I never liked it down there, but I graduated high school there. Somehow their friends, there were no Jews, they never talked about it. I never was there when they spoke about politics or whatever. Personally, I’m not that interested, but somehow I knew there was the war going on and so forth. But this is also a blockage. I don’t remember how much I knew about the whole situation until I found out where my sister was again. Until I found out that my parents were killed. It was in 1942. 

I graduated down there in ’41, so I was 19 years old. The thing is, I was too involved in living, and I always had a good time. I belonged to the [sounds like Roney Blahs?], if you know Miami Beach. I belonged to all the things, and we were always doing something. But they never spoke to me about things, either. It was like a forgotten subject. They never sat down to me and talked to me like — sometimes I felt like I was just a pet, tolerated or what. It was love, but it was not love. I needed hugging. I didn’t even know how to hug. I learned it now, and I’m overdoing it. I hug everybody I meet practically. If I like somebody, I show my love now. I could never express it before. Yes, it’s coming out now. I also had a loving husband, but being Germans we can’t express. The love is there, but you can’t talk about it, can’t show it. I missed a lot. What I do right now, I miss my mother terrible, that’s the worst. Never had a mother to talk [sobs] . . .

Harper: Can you tell me when you met your husband?
KLEINBERGER: I met my husband when I was 16 years old in Los Angeles at a sweet 16 party. It was in ’39 I think.

Harper: When were you married?
KLEINBERGER: In ’42. We were going together a long time. There was a war in between. I met him in Los Angeles, and then I moved away because the people moved to Florida. I wanted to stay in Los Angeles in the worst way, but how could I? 

Harper: Right.
KLEINBERGER: While I was living in Miami Beach, the young boys had to register for the army. What do you call it now?

Harper: The draft.
KLEINBERGER: The draft. Couldn’t think of the word. He decided his number was going to be called. He knew that. He wanted to volunteer and get his year over with. While he was in the army, the war broke out, so he was in the service for five years.

Harper: Where did he serve?
KLEINBERGER: Lucky, he started out in North Carolina in Ft. Bragg. This guy had nerve. The southern boys didn’t know what a Jew is; they thought they had horns. And they made life miserable for them down there. He sat down and wrote President Roosevelt a letter [laughs]. That takes guts. He got an answer — not from the President, but somebody answered him — and because of that, he was sent to an armory in Philadelphia. He worked on machinery and guns there. We wanted to wait until after the war to get married, but it took too long. So we got married, and I lived in Philadelphia for three or four months but I didn’t like it. I went back to New York and lived with his family. I lived with them for years.

Harper: Was it difficult to leave the Sheidmans?
KLEINBERGER: Sheinmans.

Harper: You just said, “Hey, I’m . . .”
KLEINBERGER: No. [They wanted to get rid of me?] I felt that way. I was engaged. We were in Chicago because Florida was so hot in the summertime. We went to Chicago in the summertime. After I graduated, I decided I should move to New York where his family lived, and I lived with his family for eight years.

Harper: While he was in the service?
KLEINBERGER: Before already.

Harper: Did he go overseas, though?
KLEINBERGER: He was ready to go overseas, to the South Pacific, and the last minute they called him off. He went into the intelligence because he spoke German. He went to Camp Ritchie near Baltimore. That saved his life because the whole company was wiped out. Because he was speaking German, after the war they sent him over to Germany to interview the Nazis and so forth.

Harper: Did you accompany him?
KLEINBERGER: No. He went back to his hometown, met big Nazis there and gave them hell. He got satisfaction out of that, if you want to call it that [laughs]. Some of his family was also lost, but he came over with his mother and his sister. I’m thankful for that family, when I lived with them for eight years. Some people couldn’t do it, but I’m the type. I can adjust to all kinds of situations. And I was thankful that . . .

Harper: Did you get to see him much during those eight years?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, he was only in Philadelphia, so he came to New York quite often on weekends. Yes.

Harper: Can you tell me when you first — do you remember first hearing about the destruction of the Jews?
KLEINBERGER: My sister was there during Crystal Night. They came that night and broke everything. The whole house, all the furniture was in the street. That was one of the worst things she had to live through. Then the next morning, some Dahners came; they didn’t understand what happened. The ones who came to destroy, they were not people from Dahn where we come from; they were outsiders. That’s when the problems started, and they sent them away. They never told me much about how much they were suffering when I got letters.

Harper: Your sister wrote to you about it?
KLEINBERGER: My sister wrote me letters, but never much what’s happening. I guess they couldn’t.

Harper: So when did you find out about Kristallnacht?
KLEINBERGER: I really don’t remember. I couldn’t tell you because I hear more now from her what happened. She tells me that . . .

Harper: But at the time, you . . .
KLEINBERGER: At the time I didn’t know, no. I knew that it happened, but I didn’t know how it happened to them. 

Harper: So you said, though, that you found out that your parents were killed in 1942, and you found that out in the year of 1942. So what did you . . .?
KLEINBERGER: What could I do?

Harper: Yes, that’s a different story. Did you realize there were these big killing centers?
KLEINBERGER: Yes.

Harper: So you knew.
KLEINBERGER: Yes, we just didn’t know which camp. But I thought they were not in Germany; I thought they were in southern France yet. Then I found out that they were not in southern France. They were in Germany and probably were dead. The news I heard in ’42.

Harper: So you, as well as the other Jewish people around and regular Americans, they knew that there were these concentration camps, you think?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes, but even the Sheinman family and friends, I never heard them talk about things like that. Really, like it was not there. They ignored it. Did they ignore it? I don’t know. I just never heard it being brought up; otherwise I would have been more aware of it.

Harper: Do you think you maybe ignored it, too?
KLEINBERGER: Maybe I did. Maybe I’m guilty of that, too. 

Harper: I’m trying to understand when you first realized about the amount of destruction and when these things became really forefront.
KLEINBERGER: When?

Harper: Do you remember?
KLEINBERGER: The first time it really hit home was when I heard the news, and then I had letters, but I even have an album of all my family, the letter my father wrote me and so forth. It was never to frighten me in any way. They said, “All is well. See you soon.” You know how you write letters, “Hope to see you one day again” [sobs]. What shall I say?

Harper: So your husband interviewed all these Nazis. Did he tell you about that?
KLEINBERGER: No.

Harper: He never talked to you about it?
KLEINBERGER: No, he never talked. But I did visit his place, where he lived. He was not born there, but he came from [Schweir?]. We were there. The last visit I saw his house where he lived in. His story is completely different than mine. He came over with his mother, and his father died. He was only eight years old when he lost his father. It’s a completely different life story.

Harper: When he got back from the war, or from his service, then what happened?
KLEINBERGER: Well, there’s a story. When he was released to come back to the United States after his service over there, he was on one of the Liberty boats, and while he was on the ocean, that thing broke in half. I read that in the newspaper. Not only that, the names were in the newspaper. I knew he was on that boat. Imagine what I went through! Luckily, with chains they pulled the boat together and they wound up in Newfoundland, where they fixed the boat and continued home. But reading this besides [laughs] — sometimes it’s a surprise what a human being can take! 

So he came back, and we lived with his mother and sister and family together until we decided to go back to California. We wanted to make a living there. It was impossible. We bought a car. Nothing new at the time; everything was secondhand. We made the trip out to Los Angeles, and we couldn’t find living quarters, like everywhere else. I stayed with an aunt of mine, and he was a travelling salesman. He sold gifts and Farberware and things like that as a salesman from town to town. He was gone for another three months. I didn’t see him during this five-year period. When he came back, we found a place to live and wanted to move in. On that day the rent control went off, and we couldn’t afford the rent on the apartment. We decided to come back to New York [laughs]. I raised a family there.

Harper: While he was gone, were you working?
KLEINBERGER: I found myself a job in Los Angeles, yes.

Harper: And in New York, too?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, I was working in Los Angeles and New York, too, of course.

Harper: What were you doing?
KLEINBERGER: I don’t have much talent, so I was working in a handkerchief factory, counting handkerchiefs, working myself up. Always started on the bottom and working myself up. What else did I do? I took a beautician course and became a beautician, but not liking setting hair, I became a manicurist. Different jobs I was always doing, but I don’t think I was able to support myself if I wouldn’t have lived with my in-laws, which I’m so thankful for. And I don’t like to be alone; I always have family or somebody close by. I needed that.

Harper: So you had children?
KLEINBERGER: I had two, yes, a son who lives now in Newport and a daughter in North Carolina.

Harper: So you raised the family in New York City?
KLEINBERGER:  I raised the family in New York City, yes.

Harper: And when did the family move out of New York?
KLEINBERGER: We moved to Chicago at that time. I moved around so much. When was the Seven Day War in Israel, ’60-something?

Harper: ’67.
KLEINBERGER: I think in the ’60s we moved out of New York, out of Chicago. Then I went back to New York. Then I came back to Chicago. I lived in so many places. I call this home now.

Harper: How did you get to Oregon?
KLEINBERGER: Me? Because of my son. My husband was dead at that time. He’s dead almost twenty years. Lost him twenty years ago in Chicago.

Harper: How old was he?
KLEINBERGER: 55. But I have to say, since I lost my husband, I’m a completely different woman. I’m outgoing more. I’m on my own. I’m independent. There, I was just there.

Harper: Did you raise your children with a Jewish identity?
KLEINBERGER: Yes, like we say, not a practicing Jew. Maybe held the holidays, like a lot of them do. We went on yahrtzeit. We’re members of the synagogue but didn’t use that much. My son became bar mitzvah. My daughter didn’t. She didn’t like being Jewish at all from the very beginning. I made her go to Hebrew school, but I don’t know how much benefit she got out of it. That’s another story. It’s a very unhappy story, too. The only nachas [pride and joy] I have is my son. At least I have that much.

Harper: I’m interested in hearing about living as a refugee in this country.
KLEINBERGER: I didn’t feel like a refugee, really. I met this family, and I looked so much like her that everybody thought I was her daughter. But once I was in high school, I did meet some more girls that also came from Germany, and we graduated. Their stories were different, too, but they came to families which weren’t as well off as mine. Some had to go and get jobs, which I never had to do. I wanted to get a job but, “God forbid, you’re going to get a job?” This kind of an attitude. One doesn’t do that. The thing is, I always was sheltered. I never more or less had to take care of myself. I always had somebody to do for me. And I’m still that way. I always feel like I’m looking for the easy way out. That’s one of my shortcomings, if I may say so.

Harper: Obviously you had all these very complicated issues to deal with, your family back in Germany and you coming here. Were you able to meet other people who had similar experiences? Did those experiences bother you when you were living your life here in the United States?
KLEINBERGER: No. My best girl friend I met, she had the same story almost as I did. We were best friends; we were very close. But hers was very similar to mine. A rich uncle brought her over, and she lived with the uncle’s sister and the niece. She had a lovely home, and I spent a lot of time with them. She had love there, and I loved to be with them there. I met some, but most of the girls I met in Los Angeles High School there, we never talked about what happened in Germany. Life just went on. 

Harper: You’ve been back to Germany?
KLEINBERGER: The only time was three years ago the fourth of July.

Harper: The town brought you back, Dahn?
KLEINBERGER:  Yes. It’s booming, I’m telling you. It looks like the United States. My brother always says it’s the 51st state. It’s booming there.

Harper: Did you see anything you recognized?
KLEINBERGER: Our house was torn down because it was a hazardous corner; they had to remove it. I would have loved to see it. So many memories in that house, and I just couldn’t see that so I miss that. We were wined and dined and everything, but at night I was alone, and I cried for my parents for ten days. Now I feel what they must have gone through. Now I’m realizing. All those years before, I just wasn’t aware that much. I’m just telling you, that’s the truth.

Harper: Was the synagogue still there?
KLEINBERGER: Yes. They’re rebuilding it. They’re making a synagogue out of it again. They’re making a museum. They’re really trying to —excuse me, I get goose bumps — what’s the word?

Harper: Make up for?
KLEINBERGER: Right. Sometimes I think maybe they’re overdoing it a little bit too much [laughs]. 

Harper: Yes. You mentioned earlier that you never really told your story to your children. 
KLEINBERGER: I couldn’t.

Harper: Did they ask?
KLEINBERGER: No.

Harper: They didn’t ask?
KLEINBERGER: No. 

Harper: Do they know that their grandparents were killed?
KLEINBERGER: Yes. You see, we never spoke German at home, so to them it was — I don’t know why, because Jeff he told me many times, “Mom, why don’t you . . .?” I just couldn’t. I didn’t know why. I just couldn’t. My husband, either. He also had a story to tell. Sometimes he talked about his army days, the adventures there, but it was not the same thing. But my sister did talk; she told her children right away. She has two boys, and they knew. She told them all about it. That’s a different story. Her husband also was in the concentration, not the same — she met him in Paris. He was in the underground. He was in France. He fought against Germany. That’s another story.

Harper: Have you told your children recently at all?
KLEINBERGER: Every once in a while, I remember another story and I tell Jeffrey, but my daughter is too far away, and the relationship isn’t the greatest. She wouldn’t even hear it if I would tell her. It would be no use.

Harper: Yes. Is there anything I left out that you want to mention?
KLEINBERGER: No, not that I can think of now. Maybe later. But it’s fine. You can evaluate it your way. It’s up to you. It’s as I told you before. It’s a sad story that I grew up that way, but even though, I think myself a lucky girl anyway. I do.

Harper: Do you have a message, perhaps, for future generations that may be watching this tape?
KLEINBERGER: I just hope that this would never happen again. We can’t forget. Never forget. Pain is always going to be there. It should not only be in the history books; people should be aware of it because so many people don’t even believe it happened. I think what we’re doing is great, what you are doing, really. Keep it alive even though it hurts to tell. It’s a big pain. And I thank you so much for coming.

Harper: Thank you for telling your story.
KLEINBERGER: Only because of Lottie. She talked me into it [laughs]. She’s a great lady, I think so. Did you interview her?

Harper: I, myself, didn’t, but one of our interviewers did.
KLEINBERGER: Yes, because she lived in Sweden for a long — and there’s a different story again. Actually, she was born in Austria. She’s not German.

Harper: Lanie, do you have any questions?
Reich: Yes, I do actually. I wanted to ask you if you could just go back a little bit to when you were talking about how your life changed after your husband had died? I’m just curious, how did it change? What was different?
KLEINBERGER: First of all, I had a nervous breakdown when he left. I was too dependent on him. I felt my life was gone, too, at the same time. I lived in Chicago and he died in Chicago, and I went back to New York. I lived near the family, my sister and my in-laws. They helped me, thank God, through a very, very bad period. What saved my life, I found a job. I had a daily purpose again, to get up and be among people and do things again. 

Then one day my daughter came to visit me. We had a blackout in New York. I lived on the fifth floor. I had to walk up. So she says, “Mom, what are you doing in New York? Go to Oregon. Go see your grandson grow up.” That was the wisest thing she ever told me. I decided to come to Oregon, and I’ve been here. God looked out for me. But I had to learn to be independent. I didn’t know what to do with my money. I was so naïve. It’s my fault; my husband wanted me to learn, but maybe I enjoyed the role. He took care of everything, and everything was all right with it. But I was very often alone because he was a traveling salesman. He was gone for a week and came home on weekends. It was a lonely life often, very often. He worked himself to be a national manager of the company he worked for. He was a hard worker, but I personally think this job killed him. Really, it was too much. So fate.

Reich: I’m glad you’re doing well now.
KLEINBERGER: I’m fine, but at times — I don’t know what, but something hit me two, three weeks ago, and I thought I was completely empty inside. I think maybe because it was a new — are you taping this? Don’t. Take it off.

Reich: Are you sure?
KLEINBERGER: Maybe you don’t want to. I think I took a new medication, and it was the wrong thing for me, and I didn’t stop it in time. I’m overcoming it now, but I have to work very hard at it. But I’m going to make it.

Reich: I don’t have any other questions.
Harper: All right. Again, thank you very much.
KLEINBERGER: You’re more than welcome. And it’s a pleasure meeting you, both of you. I think you’re lovely.

Reich and Harper: Thanks.