Mark Biederman - Schindlers Listed: The Search for My Fathers Lost Gold

The Holocaust: History and Literature, Ethics and Philosophy

Series Editor:

Michael Berenbaum (American Jewish University)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Biederman, Mark, 1961- author. | Biederman, Randi, 1954- author.

Title: Schindlers listed : the search for my fathers lost gold / Mark Biederman with Randi Biederman.

Description: Boston : Academic Studies Press, 2019. | Series: The Holocaust: history and literature, ethics and philosophy

Identifiers: LCCN 2018058725 (print) | LCCN 2018059675 (ebook) | ISBN 9781644690109 (ebook) | ISBN 9781644690086 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781644690093 (pbk.)

Subjects: LCSH: Biederman, Mark, 1961---Family. | Holocaust, Jewish (1939-1945)--Poland. | Jews--Persecutions--Poland.

Classification: LCC DS134.72.B535 (ebook) | LCC DS134.72.B535 A3 2018 (print) | DDC 940.53/180922438--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018058725

Copyright 2019 Academic Studies Press

All rights reserved.

ISBN 978-1-64469-008-6 (hardback)

ISBN 978-1-64469-009-3 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64469-010-9 (ebook PDF)

Book design by Lapiz Digital Services.

Cover design by Ivan Grave.

Published by Academic Studies Press.

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Dedicated to my father, my mother, all of their family members who were murdered by the Nazis, and my wife Randi who in lieu of Hawaii traveled with me to concentration camps and ghettos across Europe.

Contents

Postwar Midtown Lodz

Lodz and Environs during World War II

Europe: 19391945

Introduction

The most significant event of my life happened well before I was born.

I was born on July 23, 1961 in Detroit, Michigan the son of two Polish-Jewish Holocaust survivors: Harry and Sally (Lipschutz) Biederman. My father was the third person on Schindlers now famous List and my mother came face to face with Dr. Josef Mengele, the infamous Angel of Death at Auschwitz. My parents were deeply scarred by their Holocaust experiences. Consequently, growing up with two parents suffering from post-traumatic stress disorders definitely impacted on me. Neither of my parents slept normally. My mother woke up almost every night screaming, which was audible from my bedroom. My father was a complete insomniac. He would stay up all night and watch television until the networks went off the air and the test patterns came on. For me, it was a boon during the summer school break because I was able to stay up with him through the night and watch TV. World War II movies were our favorite genre. I guess it was somewhat cathartic for him to watch re-enactments of Germans getting killed. On the outside, we may have appeared to have been a normal suburban family, but we were anything but that. Both of my parents suffered from substance abuse. My dad drank heavily, and my mom abused prescription drugs. Somehow, despite his heavy drinking and lack of sleep, my father managed to run a very successful electrical contracting business. Oddly enough, it was a skilled trade that he began acquiring while a concentration camp prisoner.

One of my most vivid memories of my childhood, growing up in the 1960s in Oak Park Michigan, a predominately Jewish suburb of Detroit, was my first neighborhood birthday party. My parents, taking a cue from all the other parents in the neighborhood, hosted a party for my sixth birthday. Right from the start, I noticed that my party was somewhat different from all of my friends parties. They all had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in attendance at their party. At my party, the only family members in attendance were my mom, dad, and brother. Naturally, my first question to my parents was: Where are all MY grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins? Dont they like me? I remember being shocked by the answer: You dont have any of those relatives. They were all killed by the Germans.

What? I enquired. Why would anyone do that? What or who are these awful Germans? I was really ticked off. Grandparents were really nice people and they always gave the best presents! Who would want to kill them? And why?

Shortly thereafter, I was on a trip to the grocery store with my mother when a fateful event occurred: we had finished our purchases and my mother received her change; a few bills and a dime. I had always kept the coins, while my mother kept the bills. On this day, I received a strange dime. It was a 1916 Mercury Head dime. The Mercury Head dime went out of production in 1945 and was replaced by the President Franklin D. Roosevelt Head dime, which was minted shortly after his unexpected death. Occasionally, however, the odd Mercury Head dime could still be found in circulation in the 1960s. I was extremely excited and could not wait for my dad to get home from work to show him my new treasure. After he arrived home, I showed him my new Mercury Head dime and told him I wanted to start a coin collection. I was surprised by his response: My family had a coin collection once. We buried it in the backyard when the Germans came and threw us out of our home. Those Germans again! How can they do that?! Were we at risk of being thrown out of our home? How can that happen?! I needed to find out!

My lifes quest had begun. From that day forward, I started reading every book and magazine and watched every movie that I could find related to the Holocaust. I was hoping to find the answers to my questions. Even now, as an adult who has spent his entire life researching the Holocaust, my life in Laguna Beach California is still filled with many unanswered questions. After years of study and travel, I still do not have the all the answers.

My Fathers mother and his two eldest sisters.

My father and his youngest sister.

My fathers three sisters.

My father and his youngest sister.

In January 1981, my father died after a protracted struggle with pancreatic cancer. I had just finished my freshman year at Michigan State University. Following my fathers death, my mother went into a tailspin. She suffered major bouts of severe depression which led to her being hospitalized. She never fully recovered and over the final thirty-one years of her life she experienced multiple recurrences of depression and was hospitalized repeatedly.