Chapter III: Part II
Chapter III: The Lion’s Den
Part II
June 8, 1936
From behind the wheel of a newspaper-owned Ford Rheinland, Ernst Trommler was getting his first sight of recaptured Munich.
In the weeks since Blanc had been forced out of the city, Münchners had done their best to restore the Birthplace of the Party to its former condition. The city center had been bombarded by French heavy artillery before its capture, and the district of Schwabing devastated by the battle to retake the city.
Driving into Munich from the north, Trommler saw that the façades of many large buildings had been shattered, and countless broken windows boarded over. The streets, at least, had been cleared, and he could see that in some places a semblance of normal commerce was returning.
Following its recapture by the Wehrmacht, Munich was rebuilt and restored as quickly as possible.
“Make a left there!” Over-editor Sassen had been sitting next to Trommler in the passenger seat since Berlin. Only he had driven this way before, and always seemed to blurt out his directions at the last possible instant.
Trommler managed the turn -- narrowly avoiding two different curbs in the process. The Rheinland passed down a long street with a track down the center. No tram was running. To the left, a large building that might have formerly been a factory stood hollow and blackened by fire. One large wall had been newly whitewashed, but Trommler clearly read a painted graffito underneath:
The Führer fled as a coward.
“Stop. Stop. Stop here.”
Trommler hit the brake hard. Several motorists behind honked angrily.
Sassen stared deeply for several seconds at the damaged building. “No, that is not it. Keep going.”
“Should I --”
“No, just keep driving down this street. Hansen!”
“Yes, over-editor?” Fritz Hansen was sitting in the back, along with Sassen’s secretary, Clara Knabe. Following his article on William Shirer and the ensuing showdown, he had become something of a legend in the second floor offices.
“Hansen, what is the address?”
The under-editor fumbled in his pocket before producing a crumpled paper. “Schellingstrasse 39.”
Sassen peered out his window, looking for signage. “That was Schellingstrasse!”
Trommler grimaced. “The street we just passed?”
“Yes, go back.”
Three minutes later, Trommler had circled them back around onto the Schellingstrasse.
“This is it, stop!”
“Are you sure?” Trommler was tiring of these false stops.
“Yes. I have been here before.”
Trommler pulled the Rheinland up to the curb and shut off the engine. They were in the shadow of a very long brick-fronted building, around which scaffolding had been erected to repair damage from shell fragments. The four climbed out and followed Sassen up the front steps, where the over-editor presented his credentials to the green-uniformed policeman guarding the front doors.
“Third floor,” Trommler heard the man say. They passed into the unpretentious lobby and off to the right, where a row of three elevators stood waiting.
They had come from Berlin to the
Völkischer Beobachter’s Munich headquarters office as a desperate measure to master a situation that had escalated out of control.
In the four months since Lorenz Sassen’s blazing row with William Shirer in the
Beobachter’s Berlin offices, relations with the American CBS radio network had deteriorated rapidly.
In March, CBS had sent a clutch of lawyers to intimidate Sassen’s immediate superior, Adolf Normann. Though they had remained significantly more composed than Shirer had -- the Berlin chief had been thoroughly frightened by their appearance and had ordered Sassen to leave the Americans alone.
Sassen, though, had a further card to play: a personal friendship with the overall editor-in-chief of the newspaper, Wilhelm Weiss. He had pulled every conceivable string to have CBS censured, which occurred at the end of April in the form of an official revocation of Shirer’s right to work in Germany.
From London, William Shirer composed a series of scathing indictments of the Nazi regime.
Shirer, the Berlin office soon learned, had cards left of his own. He had been hired from Universal News Service in the wake of the remilitarization of the Rhineland, after his coverage of that event personally impressed the president of CBS, William Paley. Paley, now hearing of Shirer’s plight, used his own extensive connections in the Roosevelt administration to prompt FBI investigations into the
Beobachter’s two correspondents in America.
Finally, Weiss had appealed to Dr. Goebbels to intervene. The Propaganda Minister had agreed to a meeting during one of his visits to Munich -- one in the afternoon the following Monday.
The elevator doors opened on the third floor and Sassen led his subordinates out into a crowded office room. The over-editor had just made his way to a receptionist’s desk to ask directions when a clear voice called from down a long hallway.
“Lorenz!”
“Wilhelm, I’m relieved that we finally found our way to your doorstep.”
“As am I.” SA Gruppenführer Wilhelm Weiss stepped into the light and shook Sassen’s hand. He was only in his forties, but walked with a cane and limped strangely. Otherwise, he was a rather ordinary-looking man -- not wild-eyed or gaunt or squinting, as so many of the SA were -- but plainly respectable and straightforward in bearing. “Come.”
He hobbled off down the hallway, guests in tow, until they reached a large conference room, with windows that looked down upon the building’s central courtyard. Weiss showed them to seats around the narrow table, and sent for a pitcher of water. At Sassen’s request, Fräulein Knabe prepared to take notes. After a moment’s consideration, he told her not to begin writing until Goebbels appeared.
“I see,” the over-editor said, “that the Reichsminister has not yet arrived?”
“No. He shall be here, though.” Weiss limped to a chair next to the head and sat down. “Do you know who telephoned me this morning, Lorenz?”
“I cannot guess.”
“Admiral Canaris -- the Abwehr chief.”
“What did you tell him about our situation?”
Weiss laughed, and lit a cigarette. He offered them to the others, but only Sassen took one. He settled deeper into his chair. “What did I tell him, Lorenz? You mean what did he tell
me about our situation… It seems that Baecker and Loepp weren’t only working for us in America.”
Sassen paled. “American spies?”
“No, Lorenz. German spies. They were Canaris’ men before they were ours, he told me. And now they are in police custody in Boston, because you picked a fight with that bald little gnome.”
“I --”
“I will do everything I can to help you, but you must understand that I now have the Abwehr in arms about what’s happened. If Goebbels will not side with you -- us -- for my own sake there is not much that I can do.”
“I understand.”
Weiss shook his head slowly and blew out smoke. “Why? Why over some smear piece about a neutral journalist who was keeping in line to begin with? Why did you have to go out of your way to distort --”
“If I may,” Sassen said, “under-editor Hansen reported quite faithfully the conversation with Mr. Shirer. Is that not so Hansen?”
Trommler looked at his friend, who was sitting in his chair looking quite surprised. At last he managed to spit out an answer. “Yes, yes. I took it all down faithfully, Herr Weiss.”
There was a knock at the conference room door. Weiss turned. “Enter.”
One of the secretaries poked her blonde head into the room. “The Reichsminister is on his way up, Herr Weiss.”
Weiss muttered something under his breath. “How long do we have?”
A slightly drawling voice came from somewhere behind the secretary: “It is good to see that you have the place back up and working again, Gruppenführer.”
A thin man with a rat-like face strode into the room and saluted Weiss. “Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler.”
Weiss introduced Sassen, Hansen, Trommler and Fräulein Knabe in turn. After the Propaganda Minister had assumed his seat at the head of the table, Weiss began.
“Herr Reichsminister, as I wired you yesterday, the situation with the Americans is increasingly serious. It started when William Shirer stormed into our Berlin offices and -- well, why don’t you explain Herr Sassen?”
“Shirer came to our offices without an appointment, and began shouting and screaming at me, and insulting my staff members. He threatened me, and insulted Hansen here, before storming out of our presence. I discussed the incident with Herr Weiss, who agreed that Shirer’s conduct no longer merited permission to conduct his reporting in Germany. As such, Shirer’s right to work in Germany was officially revoked.”
Goebbels nodded. “So I understand.”
“Which brings us to recent events,” Weiss said. “On the thirtieth of May, the
Völkischer Beobachter was notified through the American embassy of the arrest of two of our reporters in Massachusetts. This, you see, is all a game played by CBS in retaliation for our actions toward Shirer.”
“And what would you have me do, Gruppenführer?”
Trommler saw Sassen give Weiss a bracing look.
“The
Völkischer Beobachter would like CBS to be expelled from Germany.”
Licking his lips, Goebbels looked back at him thoughtfully. “I received a peculiar telephone call this morning. It was from Admiral Wilhelm Canaris. Can you imagine what he told me?”
“Yes, Herr Reichsminister. I, too, spoke with him.”
“Would it not seem that my hands are tied, then? I cannot leverage CBS at the cost of our intelligence services.”
“Begging your pardon,” Trommler said, surprising himself, “but if our men have already been arrested, what more can CBS do to us?”
There were several seconds of silence.
“You want CBS out of Germany,” the Propaganda Minister said. “What are you saying?”
Weiss swallowed. “I am saying, Herr Reichsminister, that the American propagandists are blatantly trying to draw their country into the war on the side of Britain. They distort the facts -- fabricate the truth -- so brazenly and shamelessly that they have worn out all welcome in Germany.”
“Gruppenführer, commendable as your sentiments might be, I fear that you do not understand the political ramifications of such an action. As long as the neutral journalists are allowed in Germany, they can be controlled. If they were to be expelled, however, they could print whatever they wanted, not having to fear deportation or loss of privileges.”
Again, Weiss was silent for a time, and all that could be heard was Fräulein Knabe’s furious scribbling to catch up with Goebbels’ discourse.
Sassen’s dark moustache glistened. “Print whatever they want? They are doing that already, Reichsminister. From London, Shirer denounced the
Beobachter as a ‘Filthy propaganda rag of political smut,’ and CBS allowed this. You -- you have been more than patient with the foreign journalists in Berlin, but at last CBS has gone too far. Bar them from Germany, and you will not only remove the gravest threat to international opinion of Germany, but will surely intimidate their rivals. NBC and the Associated Press will be less likely to stir up trouble, knowing that their position in Germany is dependent on fair and apolitical reporting.”
This time it was Goebbels who was silent. “I believe I shall have CBS expelled. I will of course consult with the Führer to ensure that such a move would not be at odds with his foreign policy ideas. That said, I should not be pleased to see the
Völkischer Beobachter either provoking or perpetuating any further feuds, especially with persons from neutral countries. The Führer has made it clear that all extremities must be extended to ensure that the list of the Reich’s enemies does not grow any further. Is that clear?”
There were several affirmatives from around the table. The Propaganda Minister rose and, thanking Weiss and the others, slipped out of the room. Below, in the courtyard of the editorial building, Trommler could see the staff gathering for lunch. He smiled. Without the influence of the foreign journalists, the newspaper would become the undisputed arbiter of fact in the Third Reich, and the decisive tool of propaganda in the wider world. National Socialism stressed advancement based on merit -- perhaps one day he would rise to wield that tool.
Weiss walked the four of them to the elevator, and clapped Sassen on the back. “Lorenz, I have one more warning for you. NBC has just hired away one of the CBS men to fill the void left by Shirer in Berlin. A young man. Robert Trout. Watch out for him.”
.
