Goering Meeting

The Raul Hilberg Memorial Lecture The University of Vermont November 10, 2007

Feigning Opposition to the Third Reich: The Case of Singer Lotte Lehmann

Michael H. Kater York University, Toronto

[To see Lehmann’s own typed manuscript for her version of the story, click here.]

Lotte Lehmann was the preeminent opera soprano of the 1920s and ’30s. Born near Berlin in 1888, she came to fame at the Vienna Opera during World War I. After having starred in every European country, mostly in Richard Strauss and Wagnerian roles, she made more frequent operatic sojourns in the United States in the early 1930s. She had assumed residence in New York City by the time of the Anschluss of Austria in March 1938, and after that momentous event decided to stay in America, moving her husband out of Vienna later in the year. While her shift to the United States appears like the natural consequence of the Nazis’ expansion within Central Europe, it had been anything but cogent and to the singer represented merely one of two alternatives with regard to her professional future. What follows is an account of why and how Lehmann opted for that choice, how she managed these circumstances and what consequences all of this has in a historiography of the Third Reich and the Holocaust. 1

In 1966, Lehmann published an article entitled “Göring, the Lioness and I,” in a British opera yearbook. In it, she told of a meeting with Hermann Göring, the Nazi minister of education, his fiancée, Emmy Sonnemann, and the director of the Prussian State Opera, in approximately 1933. She had “never taken any interest in politics” and knew “next to nothing about Hitler.” The meeting with Göring had come about because she had received a telephone call in Vienna from the Opera director, saying that Göring personally was inviting her to Berlin for “a few guest appearances.” Doubting any great material benefits, Lehmann wanted to dismiss the invitation right on the telephone. But the director assured her that “you will get whatever you ask.” The singer then agreed to come to Berlin for an interview during a recital tour to Germany in four weeks’ time. Sometime later, when she was giving a concert in a German town, an official tried to interrupt her in midsong to get her to answer a telephone call: it was the minister’s adjutant. He was brief: “Madame Lehmann, we shall be expecting you here at the aerodrome at eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. May I ask you not to be late.”

The next morning she was making her way to Göring’s plane. Soldiers were barring her, but her name worked wonders: “I was escorted as if I had been at least a princess.” After arrival at the Berlin airport, the director was waiting for her. “He looked thin, and his face seemed tired and anxious.” He was nervous, and at one time his voice was trembling, because he was afraid Lehmann would be too forthright with His Excellency. After regaining control of himself, he said that Göring wanted the singer for the Berlin Opera, “not only as a guest artist, but as a permanent member of the company.” Any conditions and personal wishes would be granted, as long as she did not anger Göring.

At the Education Ministry, Göring kept them waiting; it happened to be Hitler’s birthday. Finally, Göring’s fiancée Emmy Sonnemann entered, and then the minister, with a riding crop and a wide knife in his belt. After some bantering, which included stabs at Lehmann’s personal friend, the Austrian Chancellor Kurt von Schuschnigg, 2 Göring broached the subject of a contract with the Preussische Staatsoper. But she said to him, under the imploring looks of the director: “I am not in the habit of discussing contracts between a knife and a whip.” (Later the director told Lehmann this remark could have gotten her into a lot of trouble, but it was probably a new experience for Göring to be so challenged, and her fearlessness obviously pleased him.) The singer was then offered a fee, “a fantastic amount. I think I could have asked double.” She would also be given a villa, a life pension of a thousand marks per month, and a riding horse, so that she could have morning rides with Göring. When he asked for a special wish, the singer mentioned, laughingly, “Oh yes! I should like a castle on the Rhine.” This later made the rounds in all of Germany. In concurring, Göring expected the prima donna never to sing outside of Germany again. When Lehmann protested and insisted that music was an international language, Göring reminded her icily that she was, “first and foremost,” a German. At this point the director was looking on in “deathly terror.” So Lehmann half agreed to a contract with Berlin, taking the Germany-only provision not too seriously. Göring, “highly delighted,” ordered the contract to be drawn up at once, adding his personal guarantees for everything promised. Lehmann laughed at Göring’s additional remark that no critic would be allowed to write bad notices, otherwise he would be “liquidated.” Sonnemann, although suspicious of her fiancée’s interest in the diva, had been rather silent thus far, except for saying: “What good fortune it will be for you to be allowed to sing for our Führer!”

After lunch, Lehmann remembered that the timid director had mentioned in the limousine that the minister had a lioness. In order to further relieve the tension, she now asked if she could see the feline, not in the cage, but free. The director blanched, while 3 Sonnemann frowned and averred that Hitler was too concerned over the “priceless life of His Excellency” to have it put at risk. Nonetheless, Göring delighted in telling Lehmann that the lioness had recently clawed at a workman’s trousers, so that “the coward nearly died of fright.” Then the lioness entered, came over to the singer, “and she, Göring and I looked out of the window.” On the way back to the airport, the director expressed how frightful a day this had been for him, and that she did not have the slightest idea of what she was risking.

When Lehmann received the contract, “it contained no word about all that Göring had promised,” and so she complained to the director, in a “very honest and frank letter.” This letter, intended solely for himself, he showed to Göring and Hitler. But at the time of committing her reminiscences to paper, Lehmann had forgiven him, for he had had no choice. Because it was intercepted, the letter must have been read by many others before him. “Had he tried to keep the letter secret, it might well have meant his end.”

For in it Lehmann had said that she refused to sing only in Germany and that the guarantee “for all the extravagant promises” was missing. “And what would happen if Göring were to lose his position?” And where were the opportunities for “guest appearances” in America and her “beloved Vienna”?

The result was that henceforth Lehmann was “forbidden to sing in Germany.” Reportedly, when Hitler saw the letter, he had a fit and may well have chewed through yet another carpet. Göring dictated a reply, “a terrible letter, full of insults and low abuse. A real volcano of hate and revenge.”

Lehmann concluded her story with the remarks: “That was the end of Germany for me. Hitler’s Germany!” Later the Nazis tried to get her back with promises; all 4 would be forgiven and forgotten. Her Viennese lawyer was commissioned to persuade her to return when she was concertizing on the Riveria. However, “my eyes had been opened to their crimes, and nothing would have induced me to return.”

Thus far Lehmann’s chronicle. It was based on an actual meeting in Berlin with Göring and Heinz Tietjen, the director of the Prussian State Opera, whom she never mentioned by name, on April 20, 1934. But the course and consequences of this meeting were different from what Lehmann had written. Before she published her carefully constructed story, she had penned a few drafts to be used in building a personal legacy for Lotte Lehmann, the anti-Nazi and almost-resistance fighter against the Third Reich. In order to support this victim legend and add to her heroic image over time, she allowed bits and pieces of this tale to slip out, as soon as she thought it was both safe and expedient to do so. The legend grew, commensurate with her increasing conviction that as a professional alternative to Vienna her old haunts in Berlin were losing currency and America as a potential playing field was gaining profile. In America, the legend had to be accepted as nothing less than truth.

In the summer of 1934, as soon as Lehmann knew that a contract with Berlin would not materialize and certain that as a Jew he would sympathize, she informed her Paris agent, Heinz Friedlaender, that because of the “scandal” with Göring she had declined his offer.3 Half a year later in America, she found it opportune to tell the influential journalist Marcia Davenport that Göring had tried to confine all her singing to German stages and that “on artistic grounds” she refused and was flown back to Vienna. 4 A few months later, The New York Times learned from her that she had not sung in Germany for the last two seasons. 5 To an old Hamburg friend she wrote in 1936 that she had been asked to sever all business ties with Jews – something that she did not even mention later in her 1966 story. 6 The story about the Jews she complemented in 1938, after the Anschluss of Austria, with the assertion that she would have left Central Europe even if she had had nothing to do with Jews. 7 Later that was amplified to mean that she herself had been accused by Göring of having “a Jewish junk-dealer’s soul” and that she could not have returned “without endangering my life.” 8 By 1940 she was telling her friends that she was banned from Germany and prohibited from singing there.9

As Lehmann slipped more and more into the role of a personal enemy of Hermann Göring, she fabricated a broader political canvas against which to view this very specific fate. Here she employed two scenarios interchangeably, an older one that artists always like to use – that of an essentially apolitical person 10 – and a newer and sharper one fitting the increasingly monstrous reputation of the Nazis: that of an allround enemy of fascism. She invented the persona of an outspoken adversary of Göring, who stood on principle, for her Hamburg friend in 1935, and that of an enemy of racism when writing another German friend now living in Atlanta, Georgia, whose husband was a Jew. 11 After World War II, her standard line was that she had always been a fanatical opponent of National Socialism, that the Nazis knew this and hence compelled her to leave Central Europe for “purely political reasons.” 12 She reached the apex of such argumentation when she maintained, in 1955, that many in America thought she herself was Jewish, “because I was such a fanatical anti-Nazi.” 13

Lehmann’s efforts bore much fruit, of the kind that she had wished to seed. Already in 1948 Friedelind Wagner, a great friend of conductor Arturo Toscanini, helped cement her anti-Nazi political reputation when she wrote that Göring had given the singer a choice “of accepting engagements in Germany only or finding the borders closed to her for ever.” 14 This was more loosely interpreted by others to mean that Lehmann had been “summoned to Berlin” and that the man who had intercepted her song in Dresden had been an SS officer. 15 It was said that Lehmann had “renounced her native Germany” in 1933 and, being expressly forbidden, had not performed there after Hitler’s ascension to power. Lehmann’s friend Erika Mann, who simply loved her lion story, conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler’s former secretary Berta Geissmar, fellow soprano Astrid Varnay, and Lehmann’s first biographer, Beaumont Glass, all pandered to the last-mentioned myth. 16 Lehmann, just as she had made it out to be, was credited with political acumen and courage for having stood up to Göring and Hitler (who, one source said, had personally been behind the summons) by protesting vigorously against the criminal regime. 17 Thus, “trembling with rage, she walked out.” 18 And she of course would have been mercilessly persecuted, had she stayed, what with her prior massive protests in the name of humanity. 19

What really happened can be explained on the basis of correspondence that Lehmann later thought was lost but that, having survived World War II, I discovered in an obscure archive in Vienna in 2003. The events that transpired did so as the result of a confluence of two themes: one the planned reformation of the Prussian Staatsoper, the other the professional ambitions of Lotte Lehmann. As far as the Opera was concerned, its fate after Hitler’s Machtergreifung was in the hands of three men: Hermann Göring, Director Heinz Tietjen, and Richard Strauss. Göring was president of the German Reichstag in Berlin after the Nazis’ landslide parliamentary victory in July 1932, and even before the Nazis’ final triumph on January 30, 1933, he met with Tietjen to discuss 7 the Opera’s future. Göring, with his educated upper-middle-class background, knew that he would be appointed not education minister, as Lehmann had written, knowing it was wrong, but minister president and minister of the interior of Prussia. In both capacities the State Opera would fall within his jurisdiction. By no means ignorant of traditional culture and its consumers, he desired as little change in Prussia’s cultural landscape as possible – unlike his rival Joseph Goebbels, who as Reich propaganda minister would soon assume control over most other cultural institutions in Germany. For his purposes Göring was counting on the proved expertise of the urbane Tietjen, wanting him to maintain the Prussian Staatsoper in its traditional form and, if possible, even to upgrade it, for it had suffered much during the ongoing Depression. Goebbels, meanwhile, was in charge of the municipal Berlin Opera over which Tietjen had lost stewardship in 1930, trying to propel it in a more pronouncedly National Socialist direction and thereby diluting its quality. 20

Tietjen, not anything like the pusillanimous weakling as whom Lehmann had characterized him in her 1966 story (and as she herself had never known him during prior engagements in Berlin), but instead a totally controlled, manipulatively aware if enigmatic figure, seized upon this opportunity to remain in his accustomed position of influence also under the Nazis. Cognizant of standards, he could not but agree with Göring that the Staatsoper needed improvement and that Goebbels’s half-baked ambitions at the municipal Opera would have to be checked. Tietjen, who had been given carte blanche by Göring after January 1933, also may have realized chances to shield veteran Jewish artists who otherwise would have been curtailed in their professional activities, if not driven out of the country. (He thus protected the conductor Leo Blech and others for 8 years.) 21 Regarding all of this, he knew himself to be in agreement with Strauss, potentially an additional check on Goebbels, because the composer had been elevated to the presidency of the Reich Music Chamber created by the Reich propaganda minister by November 1, 1933. If the State Opera could maintain, or even improve, the artistic quality of its core performers and salvage a traditional repertory, Goebbels would get nowhere with his municipal stage. Since Tietjen and Strauss were old friends, the director could introduce the composer to Göring and hence deploy him against Goebbels.

For his part, Strauss was looking for allies in achieving broader reform goals; hence while he engaged in discussions about music policy with Minister Goebbels, he also met with Hitler and conferred with Göring, in the second half of 1933 and early 1934. 22 He told Göring not only that his Opera would need more money, but also that the repertory would have to be moved more out of the French and Italian realms and into the German one. For Opera singers, he deplored the low wage ceilings so long enforced by a semi-official stage lobby and, having consulted about this beforehand with Tietjen, urged the establishment of a “special class” of singers, who should receive superior emoluments, not least to forestall their notorious practice of absconding to America. 23 Göring responded jovially that he had already neutralized that lobby and that, in accordance with Tietjen’s views, he was planning to attract “great artists” to Berlin at once. He was especially looking to Vienna and wanted Strauss’s help in making his stage, the Prussian State Opera, “the best Opera in the world.” 24

These plans fortuitously coincided with Lehmann’s personal ambition to get away from Vienna as much as possible around that time, either by singing more in the New World or, as she had contemplated so often before, by establishing a more or less 9 permanent base in Berlin, close to her small home town. All politics aside, money and enhanced career opportunities seem to have been her only motivation. The question then arises how much she knew about the Nazis both in Austria and Germany and, if she did know, how much she was affected by moral qualms. In Vienna, she must have been aware that up to one-third of the Vienna Opera’s orchestra members were National Socialists – openly until the Dollfuss regime declared that party’s Austrian branch illegal in July 1933. 25 Even before Hitler’s Machtergreifung, Lehmann’s German concerts were reviewed favorably by the Nazi daily Völkischer Beobachter – at least one notice she clipped and pasted into her scrapbook like all the others but, in this case only, carefully penciled in the provenance. 26 One day before Hitler took power, on January 29, 1933, she was singing, with Bruno Walter at the piano, at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and two days later she was a guest of the German ambassador in Washington, while the Jewish Walter stayed away. 27 One wonders how she reacted to Walter’s experience of being booted out of his permanent guest conductor posts in Leipzig and Berlin in March. 28 Walter, already an Austrian citizen, chose Salzburg as his new European base, and there were many other German musicians who provisionally moved to Austria and could have made Lehmann think. 29 Her admired friend Toscanini headed a much- publicized protest against Hitler in April, which eventually resulted in his refusal to conduct at the Bayreuth Festival. 30 In late summer, her regular accompanist, the Jewish pianist Ernö Balogh, described to her the plight of her Berlin agent, Erich Simon, also Jewish, whom he knew to be on the run from the Nazis and who had had a terrible breakdown, while Walter conjured up memories of the past and implored her to keep the faith. At the same time Lehmann thought nothing of writing to her Odeon record 10 producer in Berlin, recommending a German friend for a job, whom she described as very qualified and “(very important!) in the National Socialist Party.”31

Indeed, after January 30, 1933, Lehmann continued her German professional contacts as if nothing had happened. The fact that both Strauss and Furtwängler, two of her favorite conductors, were ostensibly in the service of the Third Reich early on merely reinforced her. 32 That she might create Arabella for Strauss’s new opera in Dresden in July was not an issue for her, and when she canceled her role before the premiere, it was not meant as an embargo of Hitler’s regime. During 1933, she gave six performances in Nazi Germany and managed two recording dates, and she enjoyed vacationing on the North Sea island of Sylt during June and July. 33 That on November 9, a Nazi High Holiday, she performed at the Gewandhaus in Leipzig, Walter’s old haunt, must have been particularly galling to the conductor. On November 13, she sang in Berlin under Furtwängler’s baton, as Strauss was initiating the Reich Music Chamber there. Strauss’s friend Hugo Rasch, a Storm Trooper and music critic at the Völkischer Beobachter, enthused that Lehmann’s art was opening a new era of Nazi-organized music in the Third Reich, lauding her “unblemished way with song.” 34 But later in the month, after observing this activity, if not Walter himself, his wife Else had had enough. In an earnest letter, she took Lehmann to task for her insensitivity, merely for the sake of money, while decent artists such as Toscanini were placing sanctions on the country. “How I deplore the fact that you sing so much in Germany,” Else Walter wrote. “You know very well that all artists who have been excluded from Germany, Aryan and non-Aryan, German and foreign, heartwarmingly declared their mutual solidarity and stayed away. It would 11 have pleased me if you, too, had joined that protest and intermittently had turned your back on Germany.” 35

The contact between Lehmann and Göring was facilitated, over several months in 1933 and 1934, by Furtwängler, Tietjen, and Robert Heger. Heger had been at the Vienna Staatsoper as a deputy conductor since 1925 and was heard in competent performances during several German seasons under Bruno Walter at London’s Covent Garden. He and Lehmann had become good friends. Strauss was dismissive of him, because of the uninspired way in which he handled his operas. 36 He had been born 1886 in Strasbourg when it was part of Bismarck’s Reich, but now it was the capital of French Alsace, which Heger could not accept. Driven by nationalism, he was in the process of creating an opera, The Lost Son, which had as its main theme “the swarming of peoples back into their home-specific landscape spaces.” 37 Embedded in such convoluted language was a völkisch theme in the manner of the Nazis, who were now constantly wallowing in blood-and-soil propaganda. Indeed, after the political sea change in Germany Heger had given notice to the Vienna Staatsoper, so that in September 1933 he could start in a new deputy conductor post under Tietjen in Berlin. (He formally joined the Nazi Party four years later.) 38 Since his relationship with Furtwängler was as excellent as his relations with Lehmann, he eagerly supported the maestro’s attempt to engage the soprano for Arabella performances in Berlin. 39

While these appearances did not materialize, on October 30 Lehmann concertized with the Berlin Philharmonic under Furtwängler, and in preparing for this event, the two artists’ mutual respect deepened. 40 The concert itself, in which Lehmann sang three Strauss songs, was a huge success. 41 Meanwhile Heger had learned, whether from 12 Tietjen or Furtwängler, about the Strauss-backed reformation scheme involving the Berlin Staatsoper. Sometime in November, after he had set some of the singer’s own poems to music, he got together with her to discuss this matter, and since Lehmann did not wish to appear too eager by approaching anyone in Berlin directly, they decided that Heger should speak with Furtwängler about her possible relocation to Berlin. Furtwängler immediately approached Göring, who was totally in favor. An opera lover himself, Göring naturally knew who Lehmann was; but the fact that the actress Käthe Dorsch, a former intimate, was the singer’s friend may also have helped. Heger had suggested a Berlin engagement on a trial basis – twenty guest performances at the Berlin Staatsoper for at least 1,500 marks each, which was Lehmann’s current German rate, and she agreed that this was a good starting point. 42

The matter then took its course. In early February of 1934 Tietjen telegraphed Lehmann in New York, asking her if she could return to Vienna via Berlin to discuss these prospects. In two subsequent letters he explained that the Staatsoper was seeking an exclusive contract with her (to eclipse Goebbels’s municipal Opera), and that she should try to reserve as many non-Vienna vacation days for Berlin as possible. The Prussian minister president was enchanted, and her honorarium would be generous. Back in Vienna in late March, Lehmann talked to Tietjen on the telephone and, extremely pleased, in principle agreed to a forthcoming contract. 43 On April 2, Göring personally sent her a telegram, expressing his delight and offering to fly her to Berlin in his private airplane, to meet with her in person and calibrate the contract. 44 Lehmann cabled him thanks with all her heart and asked him for his plane on April 20, in the morning at the Leipzig airport, if she could be back that night in nearby Dresden. 45 Ironically, on the 13 very day of her telegram, her former Vienna agent Rudolf Bing, who as a Jew had also been forced out of Berlin, wrote her that he had just accepted a posting in Glyndebourne, England, where he had been asked by the millionaire John Christie to organize a new, permanent music festival; would Lehmann not be interested? This represented the singer’s last chance to escape from the Göring affair: had she been as leery of the Third Reich as she later claimed she was, she could have chosen Bing’s over Göring’s invitation, thus avoiding the hot spot she was now getting herself into. 46

Shortly before April 20 – it would be Hitler’s forty-fifth birthday – it was clear that Lehmann had to do a recital on the nineteenth in Dresden, and another one on the twenty-first in Leipzig. She would have to take a train from Dresden to Leipzig early on the twentieth and then be back in that city for the concert the next day. And so it actually happened. Göring’s aide phoned during the Dresden recital to give last-minute instructions for catching the flight in Leipzig the next morning. Early on April 20, as Lehmann walked to Göring’s swastika-adorned plane, “Richthofen D-2527,” someone took three photographs, which show a smiling Lehmann surrounded by at least two SS guards. Upon arrival at the Berlin airport, Tietjen was waiting for her with a limousine.47

What exactly Göring, Tietjen, and Lehmann discussed at the official residence of the Prussian minister president is not known, for no minutes have survived. But much can be inferred from later comments. That a lioness was present is possible, for the eccentric Göring was known to surround himself with lion cubs at Karinhall, his retreat in the heath northeast of Berlin, and possibly kept some near his office in cages. Lehmann could have made this up as part of her yarn, but then she would not have asked Tietjen after the war whether he remembered the “lions.” 48

After the conference, which must have taken place around noon and most certainly included lunch, Lehmann sent her Vienna-based husband Otto Krause an “urgent” telegram saying: “meeting astonishingly positive. Fritz will tell all. A thousand kisses.”49 She had communicated with her brother Fritz Lehmann, a voice teacher, before her husband, because his situation had been an integral part of the conversation.

Lehmann must have read much into her talk with Göring, for after her recital in Leipzig the following day, as she was proceeding to take part in the regular German season in London, she and Krause remained jubilantly expectant. 50 Toward the end of April and into May, as she was waiting for something final in writing from Tietjen and Krause was holding out in Vienna, she acted toward others as if the whole thing was a done deal. In particular, she gave the exiled Berlin agent Simon, who now could use the money badly, the impression that he would soon collect commission on the first twenty Berlin performances. (The poor refugee thereupon felt impelled to commend her on having secured such a wonderful arrangement with the Nazis.) 51 As the days were passing, Lehmann and her husband were becoming nervous to the point that Krause considered traveling to Berlin to speak with Tietjen. But the director, in control as always, let them know that such a visit was unnecessary. 52

After Tietjen finally sent what he took to be a first contractual draft to London for Lehmann’s consideration, she was sorely disappointed. As far as she could discern, there was a discrepancy between what had been mentioned in Berlin and what she now was reading on paper. Her negative reaction may have been due to three factors. In Berlin, she could have taken some of Göring’s jocular remarks too seriously, as when he was promising her a castle on the Rhine. Second, by now this diva had such an elevated opinion of herself that she imagined the highest emoluments as being due her as a matter of course, both during the Berlin discussions and thereafter, hence considering them granted when they had barely been mentioned. Not least, this process was abetted by the bane of her professional existence, which by now was greed. And third, while Göring had done all the wooing and charming at the table, Tietjen the realist had been standing silently in a corner taking notes and, after the chatting, had calculated what was doable.

Tietjen’s April 26 communication to Lehmann in London consisted of a contract proposal offering her twenty guest performances per Opera season from the beginning of September, 1934, to the end of August, 1937, and more, after agreement with Vienna. Lehmann was to sing exclusively at the Staatsoper and show up regularly for rehearsals. All performance dates were to be set by mutual agreement, and she was to receive RM 550 plus a complement of 450 per event (1,000 marks combined).

What bothered Lehmann was that in order for her minimal honorarium of 1,500 to be met, an extra RM 500 was to be paid from a special minister president’s fund contingent on Göring’s person. “For example, he could die,” she wondered in her answer, and in that case, would the Staatsoper revert to the meager basic contract? Also, her brother Fritz’s appointment at the Berlin Conservatory, which she had stipulated during negotiations, was not expressly mentioned. And what about a six-room flat, should she decide to move to the German capital, and why was there no word of her being anointed a Preussische Kammersängerin? On the other hand, she had no problem certifying instantly that her pedigree was fully “Aryan.”

On May 16, Tietjen’s reply to this, her letter of the eleventh, was devastating. He indicated that many of the clauses in question had been inferred and not put in black and white and that she was taking excessive liberties by making assumptions, such as the gift of an apartment. Hence Göring had been furious that “a racially arch-German artist,” who was a quasi-Berliner, did not feel German enough to consider serving the German people a special honor. Her sentiment as outlined, that singing only in Germany did not interest her, had struck the minister president as cynically businesslike and something one could not possibly make public in the German Reich. Besides, one had talked about a preliminary contract first and a more permanent arrangement later and mentioned that under any circumstances she would receive sufficient vacation time to sing abroad. For Göring himself had an interest in exporting the fame of the Prussian Staatsoper, apart from fully understanding that she wanted to reap personal dividends from her international standing. As far as the money was concerned, did she not remember that there had been talk about a special bonus for her and that beyond that the Führer and Göring were in the process of establishing as a guarantee for artists like Lehmann a permanent, and generous, life pension? Regarding her brother Fritz, Tietjen had received him immediately after the audience, for a pedagogical appointment at the conservatory. This understanding, however, would now have to be revoked, as would the entire attempt to attract her services to the Prussian Staatsoper. And so, forthwith, the offer was withdrawn. 53

Back in Vienna, Lehmann was shocked by Tietjen’s response. On May 20 she sent a long telegram to Göring, regretting the “misunderstanding” arising from her letter and assuring the minister president that “my purely idealistic, artistic conception of my life’s work is, and always has been, to carry German art into the whole world.” This was part and parcel of her “international career,” which she viewed not as a business, but a vocation. She pleaded with Göring to believe her and to consider the letter she had, simultaneously, sent to Tietjen. 54 To him she admitted having erred. By confusing the guest proposal with a subsequent permanent one, she might have given the impression of a purely business-minded woman, which, however, did not describe her true nature in the slightest. Business was a “necessary evil,” rather than something to live for. It would be painful to condemn her error, for “every error is excusable.”55 Notwithstanding these apologies, Tietjen curtly advised her on June 5 that Göring had decided to decline her “offer.” 56

What had happened was that, because of Lehmann’s behavior and Göring’s change of heart, a contract had never materialized, as Tietjen drily observed after World War II. 57 When that reality had sunk in during June and July 1934, the singer had to take stock of her situation and decide what to do, vis-à-vis not only her business contacts in the Third Reich but also her new partners in America. For at the very time her recordings were being advertised in German trade magazines, she had a number of German concert dates in her appointment book, including one for Berlin in September. 58 Would it be politic to return? While she was pondering this dilemma, telling her Atlanta friend that the Berlin guest performances had been voided by “a great clash,” she received a letter from a Zurich-based emergency association representing anti-Nazi refugees, asking her to join. None other than Bruno Walter had added in his handwriting that “it would be very nice if you could lend your name.” It is highly doubtful that Lehmann replied as Walter had wished, for then a carbon copy or draft of that letter would have survived in her records. Although the dealings with Göring were now over, perhaps there were other interests in the German Reich that could be salvaged – for instance, her regular income stream from the Odeon recording firm. 59 After Lehmann had told Erich Simon what was safe for him to hear, already in the mold of her legend-in-the-making, he advised her from Paris that for now it might be wiser not to concertize in Berlin. 60 But in order not to burn all her bridges at once, she accepted a recital date in Reichenhall, Bavaria, for August, which she actually kept on the twenty-fourth, and she also sang in Munich on October 17. These turned out to be her last appearances on German soil. 61

At the end of August, Heinz Friedlaender informed the singer that Wolff und Sachs, Simon’s and Lehmann’s old agency in Berlin, had been instructed by Nazi authorities in a circular dated August 16, 1934, that henceforth, “a performance by Frau Lotte Lehmann in Germany was not desirable.”62 That was the official death knell for her planned recital in Berlin, and it signalized that the Prussian government had briefed the Reich propaganda ministry under Goebbels, which oversaw the rest of Third Reich culture. Late in October, when Lehmann sang again in London, she mentioned in a newspaper interview that although she had been born in Germany, she could not perform in that country as it was today. This was picked up by the Nazi leader Alfred Rosenberg’s spies and carefully stored in Goebbels’s Reich Music Chamber files. 63 By now it was obvious that to the extent that the Nazi rulers came to resent Lotte Lehmann, she herself wanted to be seen by the world as an enemy of the Third Reich.

Yet she still had to tread lightly for two reasons. One, her brother Fritz still resided on the German island of Sylt, although he later moved to Vienna; but Austria was annexed by the Nazis on March 13, 1938. Second, she had unfinished business in Vienna. Even after the Anschluss, Lehmann wished to rescue the pension that had accrued for her at the Vienna Staatsoper and to which she was legally entitled. So she decided to risk a double game. Although persona non grata with central authorities in Berlin and in the process of reestablishing herself in New York, she correctly surmised that far away in Vienna at the Opera, she would still be remembered fondly. Hence in April 1938 she asked the Opera administration to be officially pensioned, indicating that she was currently living in the United States. 64 The Nazi chief (Gauleiter) of Vienna himself granted her this request, although Opera officials held that she, because of frequent absences, could hardly be said to have fulfilled her contractual obligation since her last contract (still under Chancellor Schuschnigg) of December 1934. The other qualms aired at that time touched on her failed negotiations with Göring. Local Vienna politicians had heard that she had wanted to move to Berlin but that this had been prevented, “because the material conditions, which the artist established, were supposed to have been unacceptable.”65 Nonetheless, because everybody in Vienna lovingly remembered “Our Lotte,” she was scheduled to receive a pension of 588.40 marks a month, later of varying amounts, beginning September 1, 1938, which was placed for her in escrow. Since Lehmann could not convert anything into dollars for use in the United States, the money was transferred to her mother-in-law Betty Krause in Partenkirchen, minus some taxes she owed. The funds were paid into the account until August 1941, by which time the singer had collected, altogether, close to 17,000 marks. When she met with the lawyer Alois Klee in Deauville on the French Riviera during the summer of 1938, it was not because he wanted to persuade her to return to the Reich, as stated in her lioness story, but to settle the details of her pension transfer. Her reason to meet him there was to look after her tubercular husband, en route to the United States; she did not concertize. 66

In light of the fact that Lehmann, not yet a U.S. citizen, as a naturalized Austrian had automatically regained her German citizenship after the Anschluss of March 13, 1938, and Germany was at war with the western Allies by September 1939, her Vienna special treatment until August 1941 was quite extraordinary. And Lehmann did everything in her power to keep it that way. After the outbreak of war, she sent a declaration to her Viennese lawyer Klee, for use with the authorities, explaining: “My intention to visit Vienna this fall had to be reversed on account of the beginning of hostilities. I am therefore forced to continue my stay in America for the duration of the war. Because there is no other possibility for me to return to the German Reich any time soon, I am asking for permission to retain my pension as Kammersängerin of the Vienna Staatsoper in the German Reich, despite my foreign residence.” 67 In February 1941, the Nazi Reich Finance Ministry expressly allowed Lehmann to reside – as a German citizen – in the United States while she was collecting her Viennese pension in escrow. 68

Why the money transfer should have ended in August 1941 and not in December, when Germany declared war on the United States, can only be explained in terms of incrementally negative intelligence on her that the Gestapo was collecting and copying to Goebbels’s files as of 1940. Already in December 1938, and unbeknownst to the Viennese, who were still trying to steer an independent course from Berlin, especially in cultural affairs, the Gestapo and the Reich propaganda ministry had colluded to place Lehmann’s autobiography, Anfang und Aufstieg, published 1937 in Vienna, on the index. Ostensibly, the reason was that she had composed a paean to Walter and favorably mentioned other Jewish artists.69 By 1942 – Fritz was now safely ensconced in New York and Lehmann a recognized voice against the Nazis – the Gestapo had effectively denaturalized the singer, confiscating her property in her two Vienna residences (although in the basement of her villa near Vienna and in Fritz’s rented apartment some of her possessions had remained, including the Göring correspondence). 70 Owing to the Nazis, Lehmann was technically stateless from 1942 until June 1945, when she acquired American citizenship.

While in early 1934 the prima donna was hoping for a meeting with Göring even from New York, she had to be careful how she broke any of this news to her newly acquired American friends, especially since the United States was also poised to offer her professional opportunities. At this time, and until she received the disappointing tidings from Tietjen early in June, she ideally would have wanted to stay based in Vienna for security reasons, with the freedom to work as much in Nazi Germany and the United States as feasible. It became obvious to her that she would want to move from Vienna to Berlin only if the German conditions were far superior and, this was important, if she could continue her sojourns in America. The latter possibility was indeed guaranteed to her by Göring. Alternatively, in the first half of 1934 a complete move to the United States could become viable only if she were to be overwhelmingly welcomed there (which had not exactly happened from 1930 to 1933) and if eventually she received an offer from the Metropolitan Opera in New York, which was nothing short of spectacular. As it turned out, she decided to stay in the United States permanently only in 1938, once she knew she was not wanted in the Third Reich and Vienna had become part of Hitler’s empire, where her four “non-Aryan” stepchildren, from Otto Krause’s first marriage to a Jew, were endangered.

Even before she sailed for America in January 1934 and then met with Göring back in Germany in April, Lehmann was perfectly aware of the disposition especially of her New York audience and of her sympathetic collaborators there. Already in 1930 it could not have escaped her that of the city’s close to seven million inhabitants, up to two million were Jewish, and that New York’s musical public had grown from a predominantly German-American to a German-Jewish-American one. The New York Times, which was hugely influential as a base of expert music critics, was published by the Jewish Adolph S. Ochs. 71 Toward the end of 1933, when the extent of Hitler’s first acts of anti-Jewish discrimination had become sufficiently known, the Times was running scathing reports on the interrelationship between the decline of Berlin’s musical culture and the persecution of its Jews. Ironically, Lehmann’s name even figured in some of that reportage as that of one of the few foreign artists who actually consented to perform there (thus propping up the city’s musical quality). 72 In September 1933, Lehmann’s accompanist Balogh wrote her from New York that the “mood against the political Germany of today has grown considerably here.” Her German Atlanta-based friend, who despite her Jewish husband became increasingly pro-Nazi, wrote her how Germany was lately being harassed in the daily U.S. press and that it was getting worse with every passing day. 73

After Lehmann had left New York again at the end of March 1934, Balogh worked closely with New York manager Francis Coppicus and publicity agent Constance Hope to arrange further concert and opera dates for the 1934-35 season. All three were Jewish, as was Hope’s business partner Edith Behrens. Hope and Behrens were writing sentimental letters to the singer telling her how much they missed her, and no doubt they meant it. 74 Lehmann’s personal charisma, on and off the stage, which had already captivated thousands of Europeans, had not failed to work on them. Apart from what might happen at the Metropolitan, which for the time being chose to keep silent, they were planning an extended tour across the Midwest to the West Coast, where Lehmann was to sing in San Francisco and Los Angeles. As Hope was writing Lehmann, in mid- April, about an assured net profit of 800 dollars (around 2,000 marks) multiplied by fifteen individual events, thus totaling about $12,000 within two months, Lehmann fully realized her income potential in America, which could later have given her pause as she was comparing this with Göring’s figures. 75

As the meeting in Berlin approached, the Krause couple had to be especially careful with Hope, who then was infatuated with both. So it was at first decided to dissemble. Two days before Lehmann’s Berlin date, as she was on her way to Dresden, Krause wrote to Hope that his wife had left that day for London. 76 Coppicus then cabled on April 28 that a San Francisco Opera engagement was in the making for November 23, with others to follow. 77 This startled Lehmann, who thought – her audience with Göring over – that such scheduling might interfere, that early, with the beginning of her new Berlin routine. Coppicus was in touch with the Metropolitan’s Edward Ziegler, who constantly corresponded with Simon. As Lehmann’s German agent, Simon knew of the Berlin arrangements at least in principle; hence the singer reasoned that it would only be a matter of time until Hope learned the truth. She therefore told Hope on May 4 that she had seen Göring and that the first twenty Berlin commitments would interfere with San Francisco; thus the West Coast had to be skipped. The news struck Hope like a thunderbolt: “Frankly, I was very much upset.” Hope tried to make Lehmann change her mind, spelling out to her that a no-show on the West Coast would cost her at least $9,600. Of course the agent, like manager Coppicus, stood to lose much money in that case herself, but Hope got to the heart of the matter when she asked what would happen if Americans learned Lehmann’s reasons for the cancellation. “I am very much afraid that there will be some unpleasant publicity about your singing there. As you know, there is a somewhat strong feeling about the matter in this country. I do not believe it will affect your concerts so much out of New York, but I am afraid that it will affect your appearances here.” Hope sounded a more than cautious note when she warned her friend: “I do wish you would consider this matter very seriously, as your career in this country is at such a critical point.” There were enormous opportunities right now but they could easily be scuttled. 78

On May 24, Lehmann was informed that the German-American soprano Elisabeth Rethberg had accepted the San Francisco assignment. 79 Lehmann, still in London, must have felt terrible, for while – after Tietjen’s first discouraging letter – she was still holding out for a last chance from Berlin, budding opportunities in America seemed to be vanishing, and her friendship with the New Yorkers was endangered. To make matters worse, by early June, after having been informed of Göring’s final decision in the Berlin matter, she received notice from the Metropolitan that she would be reengaged, but only in the relatively minor role of Octavian in Strauss’s Rosenkavalier and for a pittance of 330 dollars, plus insufficient funds for the crossing. 80 A few days later, the Metropolitan offered her four evenings at the Opera at 700 dollars each but, still short of money, continued to hedge on the fare. 81 It should now have been clear to Lehmann that reaching for the stars, while making a pact with the devil, had its price. After Berlin had fallen through, the Metropolitan finally came around but with less-than-perfect conditions, even though the cross-country tour looked attractive, save for the Rethberg factor. Still unreservedly on the plus side, however, Lehmann’s acolyte Hope finally wrote in June that she was “frankly, very glad that your other plan has not gone through.” 82 With that, the Göring episode was history.

Lotte Lehmann’s case is important, because as a famous opera star she had invented her resistance to Nazism and the Third Reich, for nothing but personal gain and career reasons. Trying to enter into a deal with Göring was bad, but covering it up as a failure for which her own avarice had been the motive was worse. None of this had been necessary, as she was now passing herself off as a refugee from Hitler. Her life had never been in danger, especially not from the safe haven she still had in Vienna and anticipating lucrative prospects in New York. Opportunistically, she was playing professional chances in Hitler’s Germany against those in the United States; that the former was a tyranny and the latter a democracy based on the inalienable rights of man never entered her mind. The historic tragedy is that she stole the legacy of moral and political resistance and used it when she did not deserve it.

As historians are working more on memory, in particular memory after the Holocaust, they are finding that Lehmann’s case was not an isolated phenomenon. In artistic circles alone, one can point to several additional examples, although each one is different. After the composer Carl Orff had collaborated increasingly with the Nazi regime, he claimed, after 1945, to have been a member of the Munich student resistance led by the Scholl siblings, in order to avoid an American-imposed work boycott, and ever since, his postwar reputation as an anti-Nazi has been floated on this legend. 83 But until today, German historians choose to ignore this. 84 Equally ignored, in a recent anthology of essays on German exiles, is the behavior of Dresden conductor Fritz Busch, under whom Lehmann had premiered Christine in Strauss’s opera Intermezzo in 1924. Busch pretended after World War II that he had been driven from his conductor’s post by Saxon Nazi leaders in the spring of 1933. 85 Although he had been dismissed by Saxon Gauleiter Martin Mutschmann in March, it was not for ideological reasons, for Busch had never been pronouncedly anti-Nazi. Instead, Busch had committed book-keeping and scheduling errors and the chemistry between him and Mutschmann was not good. Before Busch settled in Buenos Aires, Copenhagen, and finally in British Glyndebourne, he too attempted to use Göring already in 1933, whom he knew from republican times, to get a prestigious conductor’s position in Berlin. Göring demured, but Busch was sent on a propaganda journey to South America, only to try with the minister president again in 1934. Twice unsuccessful, Busch ultimately turned his back on Nazi Germany. But in his subsequent memoirs and those of his wife Grete Busch, he appears as a stalwart resister. 86

Lehmann, Orff and Busch were guilty of various degrees of collaboration with the Nazi regime, Orff probably more than the others. A variation on this theme of legacy theft could involve cases of persons who had no record of Nazi complicity, but used the evil empire to portray themselves as victims, for the sake of undeserved publicity. They are no less guilty of dishonoring the memory of sufferers from Nazism than are Orff, Lehmann or Busch. As we now know, Jerzy Kosinsky’s gruesome memoir The Painted Bird mendaciously recounted the terrible sufferings of a young, brave Jewish boy in Poland.87 Before exposure, the legend of that false victim had impressed too large an audience. Some time ago Raul Hilberg became involved in the case of one Binjamin Wilkomirski, who also published a book, in which he claimed to be a Polish-Jewish child survivor of the Holocaust – again Wilkomirski turned out to be a fraud, something that the real child survivor Hilberg had suspected all along. 88

In contrast to Lehmann, it is instructive to see how Hilberg, who singlehandedly created the new academic discipline of Holocaust Studies starting in the early 1960s, has made use of memory. 89 He abided by stern procedural rules, for instance when he chided fellow authors Lucy Dawidowicz and Hannah Arendt for ignoring historical evidence. 90 His rules would have been most damning to the likes of Wilkomirski and Kosinsky, but also to Fritz Busch, Carl Orff and, especially, Lotte Lehmann, who was making her way to world fame in the Austrian capital at the very time that young Raul was growing up there. He observed: “Among the practices that give me discomfort is the creation of a story in which historical facts are altered deliberately for the sake of plot and adventure.”91 Hilberg employed memory impressively, morally soundly, and, always, verifiably. Here is how he remembers the entry of Hitler in Vienna in March 1938, when he was all of twelve years old: “Then came a man who imparted to everyone a powerful demonstration of historical presence: Adolf Hitler. The impact of his appearance was unmistakable. In the hallway a Christian neighbor was crying because her thousand- year-old Austria had ceased to exist. The next day giant swastika flags were draped from the upper stories of apartment houses; photographs of Hitler were hung from windows; and marching youths with drums were moving through the streets. Jews, huddling in their apartments, breathed the ominous air and wondered what would happen to them if they did not emigrate in time.”92 The recollection of those impressions has as much plasticity as Lotte Lehmann’s lion story, but it possesses the undeniable advantage of being true. Hilberg himself was fortunate enough to escape from Nazi Germany at the last minute, eventually to show us a new and constructive way of remembering, and recording, the terrors of the Nazi period. Lotte Lehmann, on the other hand, pretended to show us a sensation, falsely setting herself up as a martyr. This caused no damage to her integrity as the wonderful artist as which she is remembered, but it did put into question her character as a member of the human race.


1 For a comprehensive portrait of the singer, see Michael H. Kater, Never Sang for Hitler: The Life and Times of Lotte Lehmann, 1888-1976 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). The text of this paper was adapted from chapter 4 of this book.

2 Lotte Lehmann (LL hereafter), “Göring, the Lioness and I,” in Charles Osborne, ed., Opera 66 (London: Alan Ross, 1966), 187-99.

3 LL to Friedlaender, Aug. 29, Sept. 20, 1934 (quote), Archiv, Theatermuseum Wien (ATW hereafter)/18.

4 Marcia Davenport, “Song and Sentiment,” The New Yorker (Febr. 23, 1935): 22. Davenport repeated this in Too Strong for Fantasy (New York: Scribner, 1967), 246.

5 The New York Times, Nov. 10, 1935.

6 LL to Hansing, Sept. 5, 1936, General Correspondence, Lotte Lehmann Collection, Special Collections, Davidson Library, University of California at Santa Barbara (GC hereafter).

7 LL to Lachmann, Dec. 10, 1938, ATW/Teilnachlass Lotte Lehmann.

8 Marboe memo, Nov. 10, 1955, Lotte Lehmann Foundation Archive, Kailua/New York (LLFA hereafter) (1st quote); LL to Burgau, July 31, 1956, GC (2nd quote).

9 According to “The Education of Frances Holden: Frances Holden with David Russell,” ms., Davidson Library Oral History Program, University of California, Santa Barbara, © The Regents of the University of California, 1998. Also see LL to Bruno Walter, Jan. 14, 1956, GC.

10 Example: LL to Mann, Nov. 28, 1968, Erika-Mann-Archiv in der Handschriftenabteilung der Stadtbibliothek München (EMA hereafter)/914/78. See Christa Ludwig, Und ich wäre so gern Primadonna gewesen: Erinnerungen (Berlin: Henschel, 1994), 79.

11 LL to Hansing, Apr. 10, 1935, and to Hecht, Febr. 14, Nov. 23, 1938, GC.

12 LL to Bundestheaterverwaltung, Jan. 18, 1955, LLFA (quote); LL to Klee, Febr. 28, 1955; LL to Shawe-Taylor, Nov. 22, 1974, GC; Kurier, Jan. 22, 1955.

13 LL to Marboe, Dec. 29, 1955, GC.

14 Friedelind Wagner, The Royal Family of Bayreuth (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1948), 121.

15 Vincent Sheean, First and Last Love (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1979), 238 (quote); Shirlee Emmons, Tristanissimo: The Authorized Biography of Heroic Tenor Lauritz Melchior (New York: Schirmer, 1990), 160.

16 David Ewen, Men and Women Who Make Music (New York: The Reader’s Press, 1946, 1st pr. 1939), 148 (quote); Berta Geissmar, Musik im Schatten der Politik (Zurich: Atlantis, 1985), 244; Erika Mann in Thomas Mann, Briefe, 1937-1947, ed. E. Mann (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1963), 622; Astrid Varnay, Fifty-Five Years in Five Acts: My Life in Opera (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2000), 6; Beaumont Glass, Lotte Lehmann: A Life in Opera and Song (Santa Barbara: Capra, 1988), xvi. See Mann to LL, Jan. 11, 1967, EMA/722/96.

17 Münchner Merkur, Febr. 27/28, 1988; Susan Miles Gulbransen, “Lotte Lehmann on the Wings of Emotion,” Santa Barbara Magazine (July/Aug. 1989): 22; Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, Aug. 30, 1996.

18 Lanfranco Rasponi, The Last Prima Donnas (New York: Knopf, 1982), 484.

19 Weltpresse, Dec. 16, 1954.

20 Tietjen in Hannes Reinhardt, ed., Das bin ich (Munich: Piper, 1970), 191-94; Michael H. Kater, The Twisted Muse: Musicians and Their Music in the Third Reich (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 28-29, 62.

21 Kater, Muse, 83, 89-90.

22 Strauss to Knappertsbusch, Dec. 9, 1933, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek München/Ana/485/I; Göring to Strauss, Jan. 5, 1934, Richard-Strauss-Archiv, Garmisch (RG hereafter).

23 Strauss to Göring, Jan. 9, 1934, RG.

24 Göring to Strauss, Jan. 19, 1934, RG.

25 Clemens Hellsberg, Demokratie der Könige: Die Geschichte der Wiener Philharmoniker (Zurich: Schweizer Verlagshaus, 1992), 464.

26 Review “Schon die Stimme,” Völkischer Beobachter [Oct. 1932], Newspaper Clippings, Lotte Lehmann Collection, Special Collections, Davidson Library, University of California at Santa Barbara (NC hereafter). Also see ibid., Oct. 12, 1932.

27 Erik Ryding/Rebecca Pechefsky, Bruno Walter: A World Elsewhere (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 218; Gary Hickling, “Lotte Lehmann Chronology” (ms., Kailua, 2004-6, Author’s Private Archive) (Hickling hereafter); The New York Times, Febr. 2, 1933.

28 Kater, Muse, 115.

29 George E. Berkley, Vienna and Its Jews: The Tragedy of Success, 1880s-1980s (Cambridge, MA: Abt Books, 1988), 213.

30 The New York Times, Apr. 2, 1933; Harvey Sachs, Toscanini (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1978), 222-26.

31 Bruno Walter to LL, Sept. 5, 1933, ATW/15; Balogh to LL, Aug. 13, 1933, ATW/14; Ziegler to Lauterstein, May 16, 1933, Metropolitan Opera Archives, New York; LL to Wysocki, July 13, 1933, ATW/12 (quote).

32 On Furtwängler, see LL, Anfang und Aufstieg: Lebenserinnerungen (Vienna: Herbert Reichner, 1937), 210.

33 Hickling; LL to Krause, June 21, 1933, ATW/7.

34 Fragment, Völkischer Beobachter, [Nov. 1933], NC (quote); Hickling.

35 Else Walter to LL, Nov. 29, 1933, ATW/15.

36 Günter Brosche, ed., Richard Strauss – Clemens Krauss Briefwechsel: Gesamtausgabe (Tutzing: Schneider, 1997), 102.

37 Heger to LL, July 9, 1933, ATW/15.

38 Bundesarchiv Berlin (BAB hereafter), Reichskulturkammer (RKK hereafter) Heger.

39 Heger to LL, June 6, July 7, 29, 1933, ATW/15.

40 Furtwängler to LL, Sept. 13, 22, 1933, ATW/15.

41 Review, “Lotte…,” [Oct. 1933], NC.

42 Heger to LL, Nov. 11, 1933, ATW/15; LL to Heger, Sept. 15, ATW/15, and Dec. 7, 1933, ATW/12.

43 Tietjen to LL, Febr. 2, 5, March 31, 1934, ATW/17.

44 Göring to LL, Apr. 2, 1934, ATW/17.

45 LL to Göring, Apr. 2, 1934, ATW/17.

46 Bing to LL, Apr. 2, 1934, ATW/17.


47 LL to Tietjen, Apr. 17, 1934; unsign. photographs, [Apr. 20, 1934], ATW/17; Hickling. 48 LL to Tietjen, Nov. 11, 1955, Archiv, Akademie der Künste Berlin (AAKB hereafter), Nachlass Tietjen/corr. LL, 80/70/258-260. 49 LL to Krause, Apr. 20, 1934, ATW/15.

50 LL to Krause, Apr. 22, 1934; Krause to LL, Apr. 22, 27, 1934, ATW/15; Hickling. 51 LL to Hope, May 4, 1934, Constance Hope Papers, Columbia University, New York, Rare Books and Manuscripts, Butler Library (CU hereafter)/1; Simon to LL, May 5, 1934, ATW/18. 52 LL to Krause, Apr. 23, 30, 1934, ATW/15; Tietjen to Krause, May 4, 1934, ATW/17. 53 Tietjen to LL, Apr. 26, 1934 (2nd quote), and attachments: contract [draft], Aryan certification (sign. LL May 1); LL to Tietjen, [May 11, 1934] (1st quote) [draft]; Tietjen to LL, May 16, 1934, ATW/17. 54 LL to Göring, [May 20, 1934], ATW/17. 55 LL to Tietjen, [May 20, 1934] [draft], ATW/17. 56 Tietjen to LL, June 5, 1934, ATW/17. 57 Tietjen to LL, Dec. 12, 1955, AAKB, Nachlass Tietjen/corr. LL, 80/70/258-260. 58 Skizzen (June/July 1934): 15; Friedlaender to LL, June 6, 1934, ATW/18. 59 LL to Hecht, June 23, 1934, GC; Demuth to LL, June 18, 1934; Carl Lindström AG to LL, May 5, 1934, ATW/18. 60 Simon to LL, July 4, 1934, ATW/8. 61 Brentano to LL, June 25, Aug. 25, 1934, ATW/18; Hickling. 62 Quoted in Friedlaender to LL, Aug. 29, 1934, ATW/ 18. 63 NS-Kulturgemeinde memo, Nov. 19, 1934, BAB, NS/15.


64 LL to Kerber, Apr. 4, 1938, Österreichisches Staatsarchiv Wien, Archiv der Republik, Bundesministerium für Unterricht, Österreichische Bundestheaterverwaltung (OSAW hereafter)/GZ4083/1939. 65 Corr. OSAW/GZ2624/1939/1940 (quote Eckmann to NS-Gauleitung Wien, July 12, 1939).

66 Reichsstatthalter Wien memo, Febr. 17, 1943, OSAW/Personalia/LL/378a; Finanzministerium Wien memo, Dec. 2, 1955; Klee to Fellner, Jan. 30, 1956, LLFA. 67 Attachment, n.d., with Klee to Juch, Nov. 27, 1939, OSAW/GZ4083/1939. 68 Densow to Oberfinanzpräsident, Febr. 24, 1941, LLFA. 69 Koch to Johst, Dec. 1, 1938; Promi to Gestapa, Dec. 12, 1938, BAB, RKK/LL; BAB, Reichsmuikkammer/LL, Film Rk/2302/R16/A.2164-68. See Oliver Rathkolb, Führertreu und gottbegnadet: Künstlereliten im Dritten Reich (Vienna: ÖBV, 1991). 70 Klee to Fellner, Jan. 30, 1956, LLFA. 71 Joseph Horowitz, Understanding Toscanini: How He Became an American Culture- God and Helped Create a New Audience for Old Music (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988), 148, 244. 72 The New York Times, Oct. 8, Nov. 12, 1933. 73 Balogh to LL, Sept. 30, 1933, ATW/14 (quote); Hecht to LL, Oct. 23, 1933, ATW/ 17. 74 Hope to LL, March 26, 1934; Behrens to LL, Apr. 4, 1934, ATW/18. 75 Hope to LL/Krause, Apr. 11, 1934, ATW/18. 76 Krause to Hope, Apr. 18, 1934, CU/9. 77 Coppicus to LL, Apr. 28, 1934, ATW/18. 78 Hope to LL, May 17, 1934, ATW/18.


79 Metmusic to LL, May 24, 1934, ATW/18. 80 LL to Simon, June 6, 1934, ATW/18. 81 LL to Simon, June 19, 1934, ATW/18. 82 Hope to LL, June 20, 1934, ATW/18.

83 Michael H. Kater, Composers of the Nazi Era: Eight Portraits (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 118-43. 84 Orff-Zentrum München, program, “Carl Orff – Humanist gegen den Strom der Zeit: Ausstellung im Gasteig München, Foyer Carl-Orff-Saal, 10.7. bis 28.8. 2007”; criticism by Robert Braunmüller in Abendzeitung, Munich, Aug. 7, 2007.

85 Michael Fend, “Das Unternehmen Glyndebourne in den 1930er Jahren,” in Peter Peterson/Claudia Maurer Zenck, eds., Musiktheater im Exil der NS-Zeit: Bericht über die internationale Konferenz am Musikwissenschaftlichen Institut der Universität Hamburg, 3. bis 5. Februar 2005 (Hamburg: Von Bockel, 2007), 150.

86 Kater, Muse, 120-23; Fritz Busch, Pages from a Musician’s Life (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1971), 192-215; Grete Busch, Fritz Busch: Dirigent (Frankfurt am Main: S. Fischer, 1970), 52-129. 87 Jerzy Kosinski, The Painted Bird (Boston, 1965); Christopher Bigsby, Remembering and Imagining the Holocaust: The Chain of Memory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 375.

88 Binjamin Wilkomirski, Bruchstücke: Aus einer Kindheit, 1939-1948 (Frankfurt am Main: Jüdischer Verlag, 1995); Bigsby, 357-76. 89 See Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews (Chicago: Quadrangle, 1961).


90 Idem, The Politics of Memory: The Journey of a Holocaust Historian (Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 1996), 153-57. 91 Ibid., 139. 92 Ibid., 42.