Bernard Schumann

My maternal uncle Bernard was a lovable and at times infuriating iconoclast and curmudgeon with whom some members of the family refused to speak because, to the end of his life, he could not bring himself to concede that the Stalinist reign was a cruel anti-Semitic horror.

He had become a communist in his 20s but hadn't officially joined the party because he lacked the discipline required by that organization -- the allure of sitting in Metz and Paris, France, cafés planning the future of mankind with his like-minded buddies was much more attractive than gluing revolutionary harangues to lampposts and walls.

Admirably, he had become a café revolutionary out of the noblest impulses: social justice etc. but was super didactic and stubborn in his refusal to acknowledge and condemn the sins of his Russian heroes.

Nonetheless, after a lifetime of certainty that Americans were 100% racist, drank only instant coffee and were deficient in so many ways, including but not limited to matters culinary, he visited the United States in 1970 ( mostly in New York) for the first time and couldn't believe his eyes when he'd see cordial interracial social relationships, including my own marriage; critical news coverage of our war in Vietnam.

On that visit, he stayed with us for a while. As he unpacked his bag, I saw a package of coffee beans. When I asked him if he'd brought it all the way from France because it was his favorite brand, he said no, but because he loved real coffee and hated instant which was the only type Americans drank.

When I asked him about his coffee grinder and maker, be became angry with himself for having forgotten to bring them along. It was a revelation to him that we had a grinder and a number of coffeemakers at home. These experiences did not reform and completely but did blunt his pre-visit blind anti-Americanism -- if not politically-- at least socially.

My uncle Bernard fed pigeons near his house in Metz, France, to the despair and disgust of the other locals. I once ran into an elderly French couple in New York. They were from Metz ( a city of perhaps 100,000 inhabitants). When I told them that I had an uncle there, named Bernard Schumann, one of them exclaimed "the pigeon Man?!?".

 When I was four or so, my mother threatened Bernard to never let him see me again unless he promised to stop teaching me naughty songs that I would loudly sing in public to my mother's embarrassment.  I particularly remember one involving a veterinarian and horses but will sing or recite it only upon private request.

Roland Thau

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Bernard was more a man of action than is generally known. During WW2 he was a genuine member of the Resistance. After the war a lot of French claimed to have been in the Resistance without really being so, but Bernard was the real thing. Bernard was originally in the French army as a paratrooper. When the Germans defeated the French army in 1940, Bernard was taken as a prisoner of war to Germany. He did not want it known that he was a Jew. Bernard was a communist and spoke German. In the prison he became friendly with a German guard who was also a communist. That guard helped Bernard escape. Bernard then made his way to North Africa and fought with the Free French army under De Gaulle. Bernard then reentered France to work there against the Germans. He particularly helped Jewish children. I know of two stories supporting his resistance work. Sam Damm, husband of Helene (nee Schumann) was confined in France by the Germans during the war. He escaped with one goal: to link up with Bernard who he knew could get him to safety. Sam eventually linked with Bernard who got him out of the country. Another story was told to me by Joseph Lerman (see Joseph Lerman's profile). Joe was in a series of Jewish orphanages in France which were run by a Jewish organization and tolerated by the nazis - but under the threat that the children could be rounded up and deported to a concentration camp or death camp. The rations at the orphanage were very meager. One day Joe looked out the window and saw a man walking back and forth. He looked familiar. Joe went out and realized it was Bernard. Bernard gave Joe a pocketful of apples which Joe ate secretly. This hinted that Bernard was watching over Joe. Joe eventually escaped the last orphanage (possibly with the unseen influence of Bernard) and walked across the Pyrenees to Spain with a guide and several other children.

Bill Rosenberg