September 11, 2014

September 11th




The new Freedom Tower alongside the Tribute of Light





































This is a repost of a piece I did for the London Jewish Chronicle last year:

The World Trade Center was an anchor for our neighborhood, a north star to help one navigate the warrens of New York’s streets, a beacon for all who could catch a glimpse of its twin towers.  The date of its destruction is a similar anchor to the calendar, a fixed point against which we measure our growth.  As we gain distance from that day, pixelated images and inchoate impressions have found a measure of coherence, hardened to memory. 
 Our Museum is located just a few blocks south of the World Trade Center site, and, on 9/11, we were engulfed by the giant cloud of dust and smoke and ash that emanated from the collapsed buildings.  Our colleagues on that day found their way by foot and ferry to safer ground, but were forever marked by their shared experience.  Located in the “frozen zone,” our neighborhood was sealed off and inaccessible in the days and weeks following the attacks.  When first allowed to return to the building, we discovered that the roof was covered with scorched scraps of paper – artifacts of commonplace pursuits -- carried there by the currents of catastrophe. 
Following the attacks, we were faced with the daunting task of rebuilding.  Although we suffered no significant physical damage, our collective sense of well-being and confidence were shattered.  The Museum family was spared direct loss, but each member of the staff who witnessed the attack and its aftermath was changed.  I was in Berlin on 9/11 at the opening of the Jewish Museum and returned Erev Rosh Hashanah to find my apartment uninhabitable and my colleagues, each in their own way, responding to their collective and individual traumas.   I had lunch with the Museum’s chairman, Robert Morgenthau, a week or so after my return, and he told me to get the Museum open again as soon as possible.  I responded that it would be difficult since we were locked down by roadblocks and surrounded by armed guards.  “I’ll take care of the roadblocks,” he said, “you get the Museum cleaned and ready.” He also instructed me to continue with our plans to build a major expansion to our building. 
Although I did not voice them, I had many misgivings.  It struck me as imprudent at that moment to commit scores of millions of dollars to a major building effort in a grievously wounded neighborhood, the future of which was uncertain.  But I followed his instructions, and we reopened the Museum on October 5th and broke ground for the expansion in November.
Ours was the first new construction project in Lower Manhattan following 9/11, and we were warmed by this distinction, which held a particular resonance since our Core Exhibition focuses, in part, on the period following the Holocaust, with its dramatic story of the rebirth of life and community following great tragedy.  There were days when trucks conveying new steel for our construction mixed in traffic with trucks transporting twisted relics of steel away from Ground Zero.  This jarring juxtaposition in the noisy street presented a potent metaphor for the continuity of life and the impulse to rebuild.
Our new wing opened on the second anniversary of 9/11, finally completing the original vision of the Museum, providing a magnificent building permitting us to offer, finally, a full range of exhibitions and programming.   Although more people can fit in my dining room at home than visited us each day during the period immediately following our reopening, visitation has since rebounded, and downtown is booming once again with new amenities and the promise of a bright future.  On the first Yahrzeit of 9/11 (23rd of Elul), we opened a remarkably moving and inspiring exhibition about 9/11 focusing on our neighborhood and on the Jewish community, and we mark the anniversary each year with a memorial candle in our lobby and a commemorative program in our theater.
Since 9/11, we have experienced our share of natural disasters – two hurricanes (Irene and Super Storm Sandy) and even a mild earthquake.  The disruption caused by these events, and their undeniable emotional impact, reminded us all of that September morning when the norms of everyday life were suddenly upturned, and the stabilizing anchors of our lives were dislodged.  But the waters subsided and the earth stopped shaking, and we were left again to face a world that was so unalterably changed 12 years ago.

September 9, 2014

Auschwitz Jewish Center


Wolf Blitzer Visits Auschwitz Jewish Center




















Wolf Blitzer recently visited our Auschwitz Jewish Center in Oświęcim. The institution he visited has changed dramatically over the past year.  Among the changes are a brand new permanent exhibition, which chronicles Jewish life in Oświęcim, and Café Bergson, which occupies the Kluger house, the home to the last Jewish resident of Oswiecim.  This beautifully designed  and rebuilt structure pays respect to its past incarnation and to the people who lived there. Café Bergson has been nominated for an award by a design magazine in Poland, and I urge you to vote for it (just scroll down the page...).

February 23, 2014

Upcoming Program

I called John Judis Friday afternoon and invited him to join me at the Museum for a public discussion of his new book, Genesis: Truman, American Jews, and the Origin of the Arab/Israeli Conflict.  Readers of the Forward, and some recent blogs, may very well be surprised by this statement. They might ask, didn’t you just disinvite him? What’s going on? Here is what happened:  Our public programs department asked me to evaluate Judis’s book for a possible public program.  I reviewed it and concluded that we should take a pass as we do with dozens of books that are pitched to us each season.  My reading suggested that the book was less a thoughtful history of Truman’s actions in relation to the establishment of the State of Israel and more a book about what Judis suggests was, and is, the pernicious impact of American Zionist and pro-Israel influence on American policy (and policy-makers) up to the present day.  The tone of the book (“The British and the Zionists had conspired to screw the Arabs out of a country….” p. 251) raised concerns as well, and my conclusion was that the proposed program would produce more heat than light. I told my staff that I thought we should skip this one.  I later learned that my staff then rescinded an invitation to Mr. Judis, which they had, unfortunately, already extended without my knowledge.   
 
Of course, rescinding an invitation (even one that I was unaware of) is a far different matter than simply not extending one in the first place.  It naturally raises the ugly specter of succumbing to pressure and giving in to outside influence.  I have worked very hard over the years to avoid precisely the kind of mess that we found ourselves in, and I am particularly concerned that the Museum should be accused of censorship or of being allergic to controversy.  As a result, we decided to schedule (or reschedule) the program with Judis, this time with me as the interviewer.  This format will give me an opportunity to raise with him the very questions that gave me pause in the first place, and I look forward to discussing these important issues with him.  Please join us on June 1st.



November 18, 2013

UN Secretary General Visits Auschwitz Jewish Center

UN Secretary Ban Ki-moon at our Center



 
We were honored to receive a visit from the Secretary General of the United Nations, Ban Ki-moon, at our Auschwitz Jewish Center.  Here is the note he left in our guest book:
 
 


September 11, 2013

9/11



























I submitted the following comment on 9/11 to the London Jewish Chronicle, which published a version of it in their September 4th issue:


The World Trade Center was an anchor for our neighborhood, a north star to help one navigate the warrens of New York’s streets, a beacon for all who could catch a glimpse of its twin towers.  The date of its destruction is a similar anchor to the calendar, a fixed point against which we measure our growth.  As we gain distance from that day, pixelated images and inchoate impressions have found a measure of coherence, hardened to memory. 
 Our Museum is located just a few blocks south of the World Trade Center site, and, on 9/11, we were engulfed by the giant cloud of dust and smoke and ash that emanated from the collapsed buildings.  Our colleagues on that day found their way by foot and ferry to safer ground, but were forever marked by their shared experience.  Located in the “frozen zone,” our neighborhood was sealed off and inaccessible in the days and weeks following the attacks.  When first allowed to return to the building, we discovered that the roof was covered with scorched scraps of paper – artifacts of commonplace pursuits -- carried there by the currents of catastrophe. 
Following the attacks, we were faced with the daunting task of rebuilding.  Although we suffered no significant physical damage, our collective sense of well-being and confidence were shattered.  The Museum family was spared direct loss, but each member of the staff who witnessed the attack and its aftermath was changed.  I was in Berlin on 9/11 at the opening of the Jewish Museum and returned Erev Rosh Hashanah to find my apartment uninhabitable and my colleagues, each in their own way, responding to their collective and individual traumas.   I had lunch with the Museum’s chairman, Robert Morgenthau, a week or so after my return, and he told me to get the Museum open again as soon as possible.  I responded that it would be difficult since we were locked down by roadblocks and surrounded by armed guards.  “I’ll take care of the roadblocks,” he said, “you get the Museum cleaned and ready.” He also instructed me to continue with our plans to build a major expansion to our building. 
Although I did not voice them, I had many misgivings.  It struck me as imprudent at that moment to commit scores of millions of dollars to a major building effort in a grievously wounded neighborhood, the future of which was uncertain.  But I followed his instructions, and we reopened the Museum on October 5th and broke ground for the expansion in November.
Ours was the first new construction project in Lower Manhattan following 9/11, and we were warmed by this distinction, which held a particular resonance since our Core Exhibition focuses, in part, on the period following the Holocaust, with its dramatic story of the rebirth of life and community following great tragedy.  There were days when trucks conveying new steel for our construction mixed in traffic with trucks transporting twisted relics of steel away from Ground Zero.  This jarring juxtaposition in the noisy street presented a potent metaphor for the continuity of life and the impulse to rebuild.
Our new wing opened on the second anniversary of 9/11, finally completing the original vision of the Museum, providing a magnificent building permitting us to offer, finally, a full range of exhibitions and programming.   Although more people can fit in my dining room at home than visited us each day during the period immediately following our reopening, visitation has since rebounded, and downtown is booming once again with new amenities and the promise of a bright future.  On the first Yahrzeit of 9/11 (23rd of Elul), we opened a remarkably moving and inspiring exhibition about 9/11 focusing on our neighborhood and on the Jewish community, and we mark the anniversary each year with a memorial candle in our lobby and a commemorative program in our theater.
Since 9/11, we have experienced our share of natural disasters – two hurricanes (Irene and Super Storm Sandy) and even a mild earthquake.  The disruption caused by these events, and their undeniable emotional impact, reminded us all of that September morning when the norms of everyday life were suddenly upturned, and the stabilizing anchors of our lives were dislodged.  But the waters subsided and the earth stopped shaking, and we were left again to face a world that was so unalterably changed 12 years ago.
 

August 19, 2013

Jacques Vergès -- Klaus Barbie

Jacques Vergès























The controversial French attorney, Jacques Vergès, died last week, and the news brought me immediately back to a chilly February evening in Paris.  It was February 2007, and I was in Paris working on the documentary film, Elusive Justice.  I arrived at Vergès's beautiful apartment a bit later than my colleagues, and the film's director, Jonathan Silvers, met me at the door and whispered, "He's the perfect Bond Villain," or words to that effect.  Jonathan was right.  Vergès was unlike anyone I had encountered before.  

Elegant and sophisticated, somehow he did not square with what I had imagined. After all, Vergès had defended Klaus Barbie before the French courts and represented a virtual rogues gallery of other unsavory characters like Carlos the Jackal and Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge head of state, Khieu Samphan. I thought I was about to confront the devil, or, at least the devil's advocate, which was a nickname that had been applied to him. I was so convinced that I would have a fight with Vergès that we worked out a plan with the cameraman, Bobby Caccamise, to make sure he would catch both sides of the contretemps.  No such thing transpired.  Vergès was a perfect gentleman, who did not rise to my bait and answered every question with a pointed reserve that was at once seductive and intimidating. 

Before entering his impressive office, which was decorated with tapestries and works of art from several continents, we had to pass through an anteroom containing one long table covered completely with a museum's worth of chessboards and chessmen. The message was clear.






Rat Line Memo

















The death of Jacques Vergès came nearly on the 30th anniversary of the release of the Justice Department's report on Klaus Barbie.  In 1983, I was privileged to have been able to work on the Barbie Investigation, which was led by Allan A. Ryan, Jr., who had been my boss at the Office of Special Investigations. Allan was just about to leave OSI when the Barbie case broke, and he remained on as a special assistant to the Assistant Attorney General for the Criminal Division to conduct the investigation.   

We broke new ground in this unusual effort.  For the first time, we revealed how US Intelligence had employed former Nazis against the Soviets and we published a massive appendix with copies of original (although redacted) records.  A major break in the investigation came when I discovered documents at the National Archives Records Center in Suitland, Maryland that revealed the existence of an escape route, known as the "Rat Line," which was used to evacuate Barbie (and many others) out of Europe.  

The Barbie Report still makes interesting reading today ....

April 9, 2013

Kickstarter Campaign for the Auschwitz Jewish Center





Our Kickstarter Campaign for the Auschwitz Jewish Center's project to save the home of the last Jewish resident of Oswiecim (Auschwitz) is well underway.  We just received our 50th contribution and crossed the $4000 mark.  Please take a look at the project and give whatever you can to support it.