Picking up the threads about Schellberg Street

It really started as far back as 1979. Of course that was just the idea for the story. The story itself takes place mainly in the late 1930s and 1940s. In 1979 Renate James nee Edler received a small parcel from Germany. The name of the sender sounded familiar but she couldn’t quite place her. She read the accompanying letter. More names seemed familiar. There was talk of a round robin letter that was written in three exercise books. One had been found in the attic of one of the girls, now in her 50s. That girl made it her mission to find every single girl and have a grand reunion.

She succeeded and Renate was the last to be found. As she was not too well off at the time her German friends clubbed together to pay her air fare and for the next few years the women met annually.

The round robin had been set up as the girls’ school was closing. It was a church school and as such not approved of by the Nazi regI ime, despite the chant of Kinder, Küche, Kirche - children, kitchen, church. This was what was expected of women. All the girls leaving to go to different schools. Renate believed she was going to Stuttgart and would go to the Waldorf school there. On the 22 December 1938, however, she found out for the first time that she was Jewish and that she would be going to school in England, not Stuttgart. This was a sticking point for many publishers.  “She must have known,” they said. No, she didn’t. Thank goodness Crooked Cat were more enlightened.

She began to write her own story. Unfortunately she became ill with cancer and died in 1986. There was a story too that she used to tell us about a forbidden school that  lay low during the Nazi regime but reopened as soon as World War II was over. I won’t give a spoiler now but will say that all that happens with the Home Guard, the Hitlerjugend and the BDM in The House on Schellberg Street was in that story. Also, there is a house on Schellberg Street that was used as a school for disabled children. That house belonged to Renate’s grandmother.

Most of The House on Schellberg is fiction but based on a very few verifiable facts and a lot of research. A little of the research uncovered a few more verifiable facts but it was mainly that of recreated experience and  method writing – i.e. putting myself in her shoes – and in those of her friend and grandmother who worked with the forbidden school and in those of the ordinary German girls who struggled a little to understand their new world.

A fascinating by-product of this work is my interests in Clara Lehrs, a very brave Holocaust victim. He wouldn’t have seen herself as a victim. However, that perhaps is a story for another day.

You can read a lot more about all of these stories and about how I researched and wrote them on this site. Enjoy!

                                                          The House on Schellberg Street 

Karl Schubert

Karl Schubert was born in Vienna in 1889. His mother was Jewish but had converted to Catholicism. He spoke six foreign languages, the last one he learnt being Russian when he was a prisoner of war during World War I.

In 1903 he became interested in theosophy, becoming a member of the Theosophy Society in 1907. This was a stepping stone towards anthroposophy. 

In that same year he took his Abitur and went on to study Law and Languages. In 1908 he met Rudolph Steiner for the first time. He continued his studies: summer 1909 Sorbonne, winter 1909 /10 London, Kings College, 1911 back to the Sorbonne.     

From 1915, he was involved in World War I

On 20 May 1916 he married Helene Nierl in Vienna. Later that year he was made a prisoner of war by the Russians.

He returned at the end of the war and worked as a teacher in a private commercial school. He got to know Steiner better. His son was born on 21 February 1919.   

He became a teacher at the Stuttgart Waldorf School in 1920. At first he taught English, French, Latin and Greek.  

In 1921 he took charge of the “Hilfsklasse” – the Special Class for children with learning difficulties. The children were integrated into some normal lessons. From then onwards, Schubert dedicated his life to teaching disabled children and children with learning difficulties. After he was dismissed from the Waldorf School for being a non-Aryan he asked if he could carry on with the class as a private arrangement.  Surprisingly, he was given permission to do this. However, he although he could raise money to support the class he could not earn enough to look after his family so they only survived through the help of friends.

He then used this as argument for the class carrying on when the Waldorf School was closed in 1938. This time he was not so fortunate.  At this point, Clara Lehrs stepped in and offered her home to the class. There were 30-40 students in the class at this time including many Downs Syndrome children.   

The class carried on at Haus Lehrs on 20 Schellberg Street throughout and after the war. On just a few days, lessons were interrupted because of bombing. Only in 1944 did a member of the Gestapo come to fetch Schubert to take him to a labour camp. A family friend, a certain Frau Geraths, spoke up on his behalf and he wasn’t taken, according to one account. In another, he was taken away but friends intervened and got him back. http://www.wegmaninstitut.ch/schubert-archiv.html. The novel favours the latter. In the novel he does go away for a few weeks.

It was always a mystery that the children survived.  It is slightly ironic that during the Nazi regime, two people who according to the Blutschutzgesetz were Jewish managed to shelter and nurture a group of physically disabled children with severe learning difficulties.  

The Special School carried on at 20 Schellberg Street until 1969 when it moved into a new building in nearby Degerloch. It was never reintegrated into the Waldorf School and Schubert had to support himself and the school by applying for grants.

Schubert died in 1949. Since his death, the school has been named after him.

All about the Schellberg Cycle

It all began because back in 1979 my mother-in-law, Renate James (née Edler),   suddenly received a fat package in the post. It contained photocopies of letters written in German, mainly in the old script that is difficult to read. The names on the letters sounded familiar. Gradually she realised that they were from the girls with whom she attended primary / middle school in the late 1930s.  

The school had to close because it didn’t teach Nazi ideology. She was in for a shock, however, after the school closed. She found out that she was Jewish by race. She really had no idea. Absolutely none – until just a few short weeks before she came to England on the Kindertransport. Her story is contained in The House on Schellberg Street. Several publishers found it hard to believe that she had no idea. And so it was rejected several times. Happily, I’ve found a publisher who does believe it.

The letters were written in exercise books and posted on to the next girl on the list. There were three volumes and they lasted from just before World War II started until just after it ended. One of the girls found the middle volume in the attic. She made it her business to get all of the women together for a reunion.  

The letters are difficult to read, boring in places, but fascinating in others as they give an insight into what it was like for ordinary young German women in the 1940s. I’ve also read several copies of  Das Deutsche Mädchen, the magazine produced for the BDM, the girls’ equivalent of the Hitler Youth and accounts written by other German women from that time.        

Meeting Clara Lehrs

She figures in Renate’s story and soon became a real interest. She would never concede that she was Jewish. She and her husband had converted to the German Evangelical Church when the children were small. According to the Nuremberg race law, however, she was Jewish through and through. Ironically she did not escape the Holocaust because she insisted on protecting another vulnerable group- some disabled children. They survived and their class carried on meeting in her house for many years after the war.

I have written her biography. It is largely fictionalised. I’ve used fiction, in fact, as a tool for trying to find out what happened. We really have only a very little information about her. I’ve explored why she didn’t save herself when she could. I hope I’ve come up with a reasonable answer.              

Now I need a publisher. Well, we’ll see. Something I’ll mention in my next post may help.

University projects

I first started writing The House on Schellberg Street as part of my MA in Writing for Children (Winchester 1998-2000). I was advised against continuing. “It might get too grizzly.”  Nevertheless, I took it up again when I started my post at the University of Salford as a lecturer in English and Creative Writing.

I was awarded a sabbatical from September 2011 to January 2012 where I continued to work and research. Whilst working on that it became clear that Clara’s biography must come next.

As I worked on Clara, it became apparent that there were three other books to be written. They are listed below.

Five books from one sabbatical. Not bad.  

The full cycle

All of the books are readable by anyone 13+ and all are to some extent crossover young adult / adult.

The House on Schellberg Street

This is Renate’s story of her conflict about being English, German and Jewish at the same time. It also tells the story of those she left behind – her school friends, her best friend and her grandmother. Naturally, also, here we have the story of what happens in the house on Schellberg Street.   

 

Clara’s Story

This is fictionalised biography using fiction techniques. It is mainly the story of the third part of Clara’s life, aged 48 and above, though there are several scenes of when she is younger.

 

Girl in a Smart Uniform  

This is a completely fictional account but seeks to give some explanation about how the school was threatened yet managed to survive. It’s also exploring Nazi attitudes. Why was the young protagonist inclined to be cruel to start with? Why did she rate the smart uniform so much? Is it linked to the problems cause by the hyperinflation in the 1920s? The terrible 1930s depression? Indoctrination? An unhappy home life?       

 I’ve finished the first draft but it needs a lot of work. It’s possibly the most difficult thing I’ve ever written. I have to take care that I don’t give my protagonist too many excuses for what she does. Also, she needs to remain likeable.

The Woman Who Almost Shot Hitler

Oh yes. She features in The House on Schellberg Street. She has also raised the eyebrows of a publisher or two.  Again, yes, it really happened. Käthe Lehrs / Edler was another remarkable woman.    

 

The Round Robin

This revisits the girls who wrote the letters. Some of the letters, fictionalised, are in The House on Schellberg Street. This explores four of the characters in more detail and grapples further with what it must have been like for ordinary German women.    

Then there is a non-fiction project to follow.  But more about that in my next post.       

A second extract:

I've included this extract because its gives us some idea of Clara's personality and what she was like as a mother.  This and the previous extract are the only ones I want to include this time. In subsequent posts today I'll be talking more about the whole project.         

14 March 1900, Berlin: trams

“We’ve been learning about Berlin today at school,” said Leo. “Our teacher said there are lots of interesting buildings in Berlin.”

“She did, did she?” said Clara. “And do you think she’s right?”

Leo shrugged his shoulders. “Berlin is Berlin,” he said. 

“Oh it is, is it?” Clara could not believe that her son was so blinkered. This big vibrant city still fascinated her. Mecklenburg was big by some standards but Berlin. Berlin was Berlin. Leo was right there. But Berlin was a miracle and he couldn’t see that?

Clara looked at the clock. It was not quite four. It would be light for a little while yet. Imelda was busy in the kitchen. Käthe was still asleep. She could ask the maid to keep an eye on the child. They could be back in time for supper.

“Go to the lavatory and don’t forget to wash your hands,” she said to her son. “I’m just going to have a word with Imelda. Get your coat on. We’re going out. ”

“Mutti?”

“Go on. Do as I say,” said Clara.

“Frau Lehrs, I’m very busy today,” said Imelda. “I don’t know that I’ll have time.”

“Look, we won’t be long. Fräulein Lehrs is still asleep. Rudi’s out with Nanny. Just look on her now and then. And if she wakes up, she’ll probably come and find you anyway.”  

“Yes, ma’am.  It’s just that…”

“Yes. I know. She can be difficult. Look, we’ll give you a bonus this week. And you can have an extra hour off on Sunday. Will that do?”

“Yes, ma’am. Very well, ma’am.”

It was clear that the young woman would do anything for a little more cash. Well, good. Käthe would be fine. She liked Imelda. And so what if supper was a bit late. Ernst wouldn’t mind. Not if his son was being educated properly.

“Why are we going out?” asked Leo.

“We’re going on an adventure,” said Clara. “And how would you like to go on one of the new electric trams? We’re going to ride the tram. We are from another planet and we’ve just arrived on Earth. And we’re going to see this beautiful city called Berlin.”

Leo clapped his hands. He had never been on a tram before. He walked to school. They walked to most places in fact but if they ever needed to go further afield Ernst would hire a carriage. Clara felt as excited as their little boy looked. She pulled her cloak over her shoulders and they were off.

It was just a short walk to the Kurfürstendamm and there was already a tram at the nearest stop.

“Here we go then,” said Clara, holding Leo’s hand as they both climbed on.

“We want to go to the terminus,” said Clara as the conductor came for the fare. “Return, please.”

The young man nodded and gave Clara two tickets. A middle-aged man gave her his seat and Clara sat down, pulling Leo on to her lap.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Unwashed bodies, she suspected.

“Mutti, what’s that funny sm…?” Leo began to say.

“Look,” said Clara, distracting him. She pointed to a tram going the other way. “Isn’t it amazing that these carriages go on their own with no horse to pull them? And do you know what makes them work?”

“Lectricy,” said Leo.

“And what is that, young man?” asked Clara.

Leo shrugged.

She wasn’t sure either. They’d just have to ask Ernst that evening. 

“Oh and look,” said Clara. She pointed up at the building they were passing. “Aren’t they tall? And look at how the glass shines in the windows. Oh, and all those elegant ladies and gentlemen walking along the streets. Look we’re going faster than the carriages pulled by horses.”

“How old is he?” said a young woman who had just sat down next to them.

“Six. He’s just six.”

“Well he does seem interested in everything, bless him. I wish my young’uns would appreciate half as much in the world. You’ve got a good’un there missus. What’s your name, young man?”

Leo shied away from the woman.

“Leo. His name’s Leo,” said Clara.

“Well, Master Leo,” said the woman. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your tram ride. I’ll have to love you and leave you. This is my stop coming up. Good evening to you.”

“Say goodbye to the lady,” whispered Clara, kissing Leo’s head.

Leo half smiled and waved shyly at the woman. She winked back.

Gradually more and more people left the tram. Finally they were the only passengers. The tram made a last stop.

“We have to get off here,” said Clara.

“Why?” said Leo.

“It’s the terminus.”

“What’s that?”

“Where the rails end. Look. Watch what happens.”

The driver got out of the tram and moved to the other end. The conductor made his way along tilting the backs of the seats so that they faced the other way. 

“Oh,” said Leo. “He’s changed them round.”

“Yes. So that people can see where they’re going. We’ll get back on in a minute and go all the way back home.”

Ten minutes later the tram was taking them back towards their home. There weren’t so many people on now and Leo had a seat all to himself. He pressed his nose up against the window. It was beginning to get dark and the windows in the buildings that lined the wide street were lit up but the shutters had not yet been put into place. They could see right into the apartments and offices.

“Can’t you see what a beautiful city we live in?” said Clara.

Leo nodded.

“Good,” said Clara. “You can tell your teacher all about that tomorrow.”

Ernst had already arrived home when they got back.

“Vati, we’ve been on a tram,” said Leo. “All along the Ku’damm.”

“A tram?” said Ernst. “All along the Ku’damm. My goodness we do have some style these days.”  He raised his eyebrows and looked at Clara. But there was a twinkle in his eyes.

Clara shrugged. “He needed to get to know the city. It was the quickest way.”

“I should think so too. A truly splendid idea. You should make a habit of it.”

“Why can’t I go on a tram?” Käthe was scowling at them.

Clara laughed and bent down to kiss her little daughter on the head. “You shall, my love. Once you are six as well and you don’t need your afternoon nap.”

“It’s not fair. Leo gets all the fun.” 

“Oh Käthe, you must be patient,” said Ernst.  He bent down and picked her up. “You’ll grow up soon enough.”

A First Extract from Clara's Story. Meet Clara!

Mild spoiler alert: this won't actually give the story away - and anyway chances are if you've read The House on Schellberg Street you may have figured out what's happened to Clara. it's no worse, anyway, that that little blurby synopses we see on recorded TV programmes.   

The story attempts to tell the how and the why, not the what.

Clara's Story is not presented entirely chronologically. This is therefore not the first chapter. It is, however, the earliest glimpse we have of her.    

15 July 1883, Mecklenburg: Sunday best  

Clara looked out of the drawing-room window to the street below. They were there again, the same as every Sunday. The three little girls looked so pretty in their summer dresses. The older girl – Clara guessed she must be the same age as herself – and the two boys who looked just like her own older brothers, Wilhelm and Rupert, were walking behind them, making sure that the little ones kept up with the rest. There were three younger boys who walked just behind the parents.

“They’re just like us,” said Clara.

“Except that they’re not,” said Wilhelm. “They’re Christians and we’re Jews.”

“What difference does that make?” asked Clara.

Rupert sighed. “A lot, Clarachen.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m nearly twelve and then I shall be a grown-up.”

Rupert tutted. “Well grow up then. They’re on their way home from church. They go to church on Sunday and we go to the synagogue on Saturday. They have a day of rest on Sunday and we have ours on Saturday.”

“But they dress like us and I expect they eat the same food. I expect their Mama is just as nice as ours. And there are nine of them, just like there are nine of us. We could each have a friend.”

Mama put down her sewing. “They might not want to be friends with us.”

“Why ever not?”

Mama and Papa exchanged a glance. Papa nodded. “She’s right. She will be grown up soon.”

“All right. Come with me, you big girl, you.” Mama stood up and slipped her arm around Clara’s waist. “You can help me make some tea and I’ll explain it all to you.”

As they set off down the stairs Mama whispered “I didn’t want the little ones to hear this yet.”

They heard a scream from outside and then a child howling. Clara just knew it was one of the little girls. She ran down the stairs and opened the front door.

Yes, there was one of them lying on the ground, screaming. Blood was streaming from cuts on her head and her leg. The mother and an older girl, about the same age as Clara, were bending down trying to comfort her. The others were looking on helplessly.

“Oh, Mama, we must help her,” said Clara. She rushed over to the family. “Will you come inside? We can bathe her leg and her head.”

The two mamas exchanged a look.

“Please,” said Clara. “She can’t walk home like that.”

The Christian lady looked at her husband.

“It’s true,” he said. “Perhaps you should stay here with her. I’ll take the others home and come back with the carriage.” He turned to Mama and Clara. “This is so very kind of you,” he said. 

“I am Frau Hellerman,” said the lady, “and this is my daughter Lotte and her sister, Melissa.”

“Frau Loewenthal. Clara.” Mama was already helping Frau Hellerman to get Lotte on to her feet. “Come on young lady. We’ll soon get you sorted out.”

Lotte managed to limp into the kitchen and Mama lifted her up on to a stool. She filled a bowl with warm water. She gently dabbed the wounds on the little girl’s knee and forehead. “I hope it’s not stinging too much.”

Lotte shook her head. “I’ve spoiled my dress, though.”

“She should put some salt on it, shouldn’t she?” said Clara. “Won’t it stop it staining?”  

Mama nodded. Clara fetched the krug and sprinkled salt on the stains.  

“You see,” whispered Frau Hellerman. “Frau  Loewenthal and Clara are taking good care of you.”

A few moments later Lotte was completely cleaned up.

“Would you like some tea?” said Mama. “Clara and I were just about to make some. And Lotte, I think we might find some lemonade for you.”

Lotte smiled.

The door opened. Papa walked in. “There you are. And I see we have some visitors.”

Mama did the introductions.

“You have all been so kind,” said Frau Hellerman.

Clara helped Lotte hobble up into the lounge. Käthe brought one of her dolls for her to play with while they waited for Herr Hellerman.

“This really is kind of you,” said Frau Hellerman. “I’m sure my husband won’t be long. I’m so glad - well I’m so glad the law is on your side now.”

“Yes, it is easier now,” said Mama.

Clara wished she understood. Lotte and Käthe looked so similar and were obviously enjoying playing together.

“Ah. It looks as if your husband has arrived,” said Papa. “I’ll go and greet him.”

“Can Käthe and I be friends?” Lotte kissed the doll and handed it back to Käthe.

Mama and Frau Herllerman exchanged a glance. Mama nodded. “You are welcome in our home any time, my dear.”

“Come, let us find Papa,” said Frau Hellerman. She smiled at Clara and Mama. “I’m so glad you’ve found a new friend.”

“What did Frau Hellerman mean about the law being on our side now?”  Clara asked Wilhelm later.

“It’s not always been easy for Jews,” her brother replied. “A lot of people don’t like us. But now the law says we have to be treated like any other citizen.”

This was so difficult to understand. They were just like everybody else, weren’t they? So why did they need a law to make them the same as everyone else? 

“Is it just because we don’t believe Jesus of Nazareth was the Messiah? Is that why people don’t like us?

Wilhelm laughed. “It’s not that simple, actually. You’ll understand one day. Listen. You’re just in the first stage of your life. Just enjoy it and don’t worry so much.” He turned and left the room.   

It was so annoying. Why did they all treat her like a child? She was almost twelve and would have to pin her hair up soon.