Escaping Hitler on a Nazi Ship: Persecuted Journalist László Frank’s Memoir Part II

This is part two of a series that aims to introduce the memoir of Hungarian-born Viennese emigrant-journalist László Frank who spent almost a decade in Shanghai as a Jewish refugee, after successfully fleeing Nazi persecution. In this post, I’ll cover a dubious incident Frank experienced being onboard a German steamer bound for China via various so-called free, Fascist and colonial ports in Europe, Africa and Asia. Most of what follows is based on chapter two of his 1960-published recollections. (For part one of this series on Frank’s escape from occupied Vienna, click here.)

It was a sunny morning, as László Frank was staring at the horizon almost unaware of the cup of coffee he was holding midway to his mouth. The “Potsdam” has been sailing the calm waves of the Indian Ocean for days now, after they passed through the Suez Canal. The passengers had already adjusted to the summer weather, happily forgetting what December was like in the northern hemisphere. Close to two weeks into their voyage, even those with more sensitive stomachs had learned to cooperate with the movements of the giant vessel whose crew everyone on board trusted with their lives. Until the incident of this morning even seasoned fugitives like Frank began to loosen up.

A ship menu from the “SS Potsdam”‘s visit to Shanghai in 1936 (Abebooks.com)

After all, the Nazi agitator of Rotterdam with the faux-broken German was long gone. He blew his cover by involuntarily letting his his echt Berlin-Neuköln accent to surface as he was ranting on “Europe’s New Order”. The loud voice of marching blackshirts clogging the streets of Mussolini’s Genoa, where Frank and his fellows went offboard to obtain their Chinese visas wasn’t echoing in the passengers’ ears anymore. The warm hospitality and the thousand pieces of cigarettes everyone received from the management of the Simon Arzt tobacco factory in Port Said felt like the beginning of their new life as they bid farewell to the Mediterranean. Yes, they occasionally saw off-duty ship employees practicing drills in their brown S.A. uniforms, but they had already gotten used to that. It was the disappearance of Mr. H. that has alerted all passengers on board regardless of their respective vacation or emigration plans. Nobody could entertain themselves anymore with illusions of a voyage de plaisir.

A woman dressed in all-white was crossing through the breakfast tables nervously heading to the commander’s bridge. Frank couldn’t hear what she was saying to the captain but couldn’t miss her anxious gestures and worried expressions. A few minutes later all hands were on deck, and the captain ordered his sailors to turn everything upside down.

“What just happened?” asked Frank from Fritz, the waiter.

“They’re looking for that American publisher, Mr. H.” said Fritz, “he didn’t return to his cabin last night.”

“He might just be napping under the bar’s counter holding on to his cognac bottle!” chipped in cheerfully a young man from the other table.

“Right! – ’Scuse me to interrupt” jumped in another chatty Viennese fellow “but I’ve been seeing him every night since we weighed anchor in Port Said, drinking and cursing Hitler, Göring and the other Nazi demigods.”

“Well, that surely didn’t enchant our stewards I must think” sighed Frank, and made a meaningful glance at his friend Storfer who was busy separating the yolk from the white of his fried egg with his fork.

A few hours later, after the thorough examination of the vessel and ordering the ship to turn around to sail back where they were in the previous night brought no results, the investigation concluded that Mr. H. must have drunk even more than usual, and while reeling home on deck he fell over the railings. In the moonless pitch dark no one noticed him, and the sharks must have made sure he didn’t have much chance crying for help.

The guts and experience told the two emigrant journalists Frank and Storfer not to believe any of the official version that the captain disclosed with the passengers. They were convinced that someone so openly exhibiting their anti-Nazi views must have been pushed. Listening to their survival instinct they both decided that they will not lift their guards for the rest of the trip until they set foot on the Chinese shores.