Nov. 17, 2009
Twenty years ago, on Nov. 9, 1989, a wall was torn down and hailed the beginning of a new country without oppression.
But in 1938, Nov. 9 meant something very different to Ruth Kropveld. On that night, Kropveld’s world changed forever as Nazi soldiers destroyed her parents’ milliner shop and nearby stores owned by Jewish neighbors.
Almost 100 Jews were murdered throughout Germany and Austria and more than 25,000 were arrested and sent to concentration camps.
That night, now known as Kristallnacht, or “night of the broken glass,” was the beginning of the story that would take Kropveld from her family and to another country.
Kropveld, who grew up in Bad Hersfeld in northeastern Germany, described her reaction to the aftermath of Kristallnacht to a Holocaust Literature class Thursday, Nov. 12.
“This is something I will have in my mind all my life,” Kropveld said. “It was a terrible thing to see.”
Kropveld’s story is the focus for the new book “Nevertheless We Lived,” by Lisa Phillips, a 2003 University of Cincinnati communication graduate.
As a child, Phillips grew up hearing stories of her grandfather’s experiences during the Holocaust. Phillips’ middle name Rachel was given to her in honor of a lost family member. Her grandfather’s niece died when she was one year old, a story that brought Phillips to tears on Nov. 12.
Stanley Rich escaped to the United States as a teenager, leaving behind his family and everything he knew.
Before her grandfather died in 1995, when Phillips was 13 years old, he asked Phillips and her family to continue telling his story.
“He looked up with tears in his eyes,” Phillips recalled. “And he said, ‘Please make sure to tell these stories to your children and your grandchildren.’ ”
Then, in August 2006, Phillips was introduced to Kropveld, who coincidentally had been good friends with Phillips’ grandfather. After the introduction, Phillips said she felt drawn to Kropveld and her story.
“I honestly felt like a part of me was supposed to be there,” Phillips said. “It was more, ‘How could I not do it?’ than, ‘How could I?’ ”
After deciding to write Kropveld’s biography, Phillips began meeting with her once a week for two years for interviews. It was the first time Kropveld had discussed her experiences in depth.
“I have not talked about my story because it’s very hard,” Kropveld said. “But this is the story of my life.”
As Phillips wrote, she faced challenges. At first, with the lack of a timeline or boss to report to, Phillips found herself lagging. Then, Kropveld’s daughter made a request, asking if the book could be finished before her son’s bar mitzvah.
This gave Phillips the deadline and initiative she needed. But between working at her day job and writing the b
iography, Phillips felt the strain on her social life and down time.
During the day, Phillips would work at a news station in Florida and then return home to work on the biography, sometimes writing throughout the night.
The hardest part for Phillips was being able to comprehend just how big of a project she was undertaking.
Once the book was written, Phillips received help from family, friends and co-workers, who did the editing so Phillips could self-publish the biography.
“Nevertheless We Lived” was published in June 2008 and can be found at bookstores across the country.
The memoir continues after Kropveld’s account of Kristallnacht when 15-year-old Ruth Stern (Kropveld’s maiden name) decided to seek refuge in Holland by sneaking across Germany/Holland border. She left her home and her family, not realizing it would be 10 years before she saw them again.
She traveled with Jesse Kropveld, her boyfriend and future husband, carrying only a small backpack and her guitar.
They met two other Jews trying to escape persecution in Germany and joined them.
The group stopped at several safe houses but at one point, they were apprehended and put in jail. Kropveld and the other girl were released, but Jesse was forced to remain behind.
Once Kropveld reached Holland, members of the Dutch resistance movement protected her.
One time when Kropveld was staying at a safe house, Nazis searched it twice. Kropveld was forced to hide behind a haystack in the barn as soldiers searched for her with pitchforks.
After the incident, Kropveld slept in a potato field for two days until she could be moved to another home.
Kropveld was sent to live with a family that owned a grocery store. While working in the store, Kropveld and her host family used code phrases like “Mary has a baby” in order to communicate. Kropveld also kept a fake ID in case Nazi soldiers asked her for identification.
Kropveld was moved twice more: first to Winterswijk, Holland, where she stayed with a rabbi’s family, and then to another house, where she pretended to be a maid.
She stayed there for almost six months until Holland was liberated in 1945. Once she came out of hiding, Kropveld tried to send a message to her family.
“My parents don’t know I’m living,” she said to a sympathetic soldier who sent a message to Kropveld’s cousin.
Kropveld and Jesse found each other in Holland after the war and were married before moving to Cincinnati to start a new life. Kropveld opened her own millinery shop, like the one her parents owned which had been destroyed years before.
The Kropveld’s prospered in Cincinnati and Ruth became known as the local “Hat Lady.” Their family grew and flourished; her grandson recently had his bar mitzvah.
While Kropveld had never told her story to the public, she felt it was finally time; she turned 88 on June 27.
“I felt at this point I should tell my story,” Kropveld says. “Not for the tragedy, but [to show] the kindness of humanity — those who kept me alive.”
It’s a story Phillips feels she was destined to tell.
“Too many things have been coincidental,” Phillips says. “I feel like I’m here to tell her story.”
The Yiddish word “bashert” means “destiny” or a “fortuitous match,” and describes Phillips’ feelings toward finding Kropveld and being able to write about her life.
As Phillips sees it, her generation’s job is to continue passing on the stories like her grandfather’s, like Kropveld’s.
“It says in the Torah that you can’t turn a blind eye; it’s forbidden,” Phillips says. “And our generation, choosing not to talk about it, not to think about it — that would be turning a blind eye.”
The book has already become more than Phillips imagined it would.
“There’s no way I could have known it would go so far — how many lives it would reach,” Phillips says.
For Kropveld, the memories that still haunt her today have a positive message.
“It’s very vivid; just last night I couldn’t sleep. It all came back to me,” Kropveld says. “But I’ve learned to not take life for granted. These are things you don’t forget.”
rformance Wednesday, Nov. 4, in Tangeman University Center’s Great Hall at the University of Cincinnati. The event was sponsored by the UC Programs & Activities Council, Alpha Phi Alpha and Kappa Alpha Psi.