Chapter 22

January 1925 – July 1927

After prison, Hitler was calmer. More disciplined. More focused. In addition to dictating a draft of Mein Kampf, he also used his time to read polemics that transformed his thinking. He now rejected a putsch as his path to dictatorial power. After much study, Hitler concluded that winning democratic elections was the only path to the ultimate defeat of democracy.

This led to his greatest transformation.

Campaigning and winning elections required money, and the only available source of the magnitude of funds needed were the industrialists and the aristocracy. But the original founders of the NSDAP continued to embrace the party’s cornerstone twenty-five-point program that would nationalize the wealth of those same individuals. This brought Hitler into direct philosophical conflict with diehards in the party. Trouble was brewing.

The avid party socialists—mostly in the north—were not idle while Wolf was in prison. As Hitler set out to regain power as party chief, Gregor Strasser, his brother Otto, and their new recruit, Joseph Goebbels—and even close allies like Wilhelm Frick and Ernst Röhm, indeed most everyone in the party—continued to embrace the socialist workers’ part of their party’s name. Hitler knew he had to change the ideology of the party, to get all of them to support the nationalist part of the National Socialist Workers Democratic Party . . . or he could never take power.

*

Wolf and I met for lunch soon after his release. We took an inside table at the Heck Café, located at the corner of Ludwigstrasse and Galeriestrasse, overlooking the Hofgarten. As we relaxed over dessert, a more confident Wolf said, “Prison was a liberating experience, Friedrich. It gave me time to formulate ideas, write my story, and comprehend what the party needs in order to succeed.”

I admired his upbeat attitude but he needed to know what had occurred in his absence. “The party is in shambles, Wolf. Isolated branches have sprung up across the country. In some instances, they’ve shifted loyalty from you to others.”

Wolf had a dreamy-eyed look about him. “I did more than write a book in prison.”

“Did you hear what I said about the party? It demands your attention.”

“I wrote a poem about my mother. You know I write poetry. I’m going to add this to my collection.”

This stopped me cold. I did not know what to think. Was Wolf talking about the same poem that Dr. Forster told me was really written by someone else? I didn’t know which was worse: the possibility that he was recycling this old poem as his or that he was unable to focus on the party’s problems? Before I could navigate him back to our subject, he reached into his pocket and produced a piece of light-brown stationery lined with his scribble. A quick scan told me that it matched Dr. Forster’s description.

THINK IT

When your mother has grown older,
When her dear, faithful eyes
no longer see life as they once did,
When her feet, grown tired,
No longer want to carry her as she walks—

Then lend her your arm in support,
Escort her with happy pleasure.
The hour will come when, weeping, you
Must accompany her on her final walk.

And if she asks you something,
Then give her an answer.
And if she asks again, then speak!
And if she asks yet again, respond to her,
Not impatiently, but with gentle calm.

And if she cannot understand you properly
Explain all to her happily.
The hour will come, the bitter hour,
When her mouth asks for nothing more.”

Adolf Hitler, 1923

I placed the poem on the table. “Wolf, this is very touching. I appreciate how productive you were while in prison, but you are losing your grip on the party.” The greater question for me: was he losing his grip on reality?

In a move that startled me, he grabbed my hand, leaned forward, and stared to the point that I squirmed in my chair. “After all this time, Friedrichshen, you still underestimate your friend. Don’t you think I know Gregor Strasser is trying to undermine me? I know that he has made Himmler his personal assistant. I know that the new man on the scene—Joseph Goebbels—is brilliant and that I have to watch out for him.”

“His oratory reminds me of you.”

“That may be so,” said Wolf, “but he has picked the wrong man to get behind.”

“If you know this subterfuge exists in the party ranks, what do you plan to do about it?” At that moment, he let go of my hand and sat tall, his eyes trailing the young waitress bringing us coffee. I cleared my throat. “Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard every word.” His eyes never wavered from her backside.

“Then how will you go about it?”

“About what?” He turned to me only after she ducked into the kitchen.

“Strasser and the rest of them. Since the party has been banned, they formed a new party: The National Socialist Freedom Movement. They won thirty-two seats in the Reichstag last year. Röhm and Ludendorff are with them.”

He turned back to me. “The jailers brought me newspapers from here and Berlin. Visitors also kept me informed. None of what you are telling me is new.”

“Then you must know that the SA has been banned, and that Röhm constructed a veritable army of ex-Freikorps. It’s called the Frontbann. Wolf, he’s got thirty thousand men behind him.”

“That’s not a concern.” He tapped his temple. “Why do you think I put Rosenberg in charge of the party when I was arrested? I knew he was incapable of running it. I needed the party to splinter and fall apart. The last thing I wanted was a strong leader to take control. Now that I am out of Landsberg, I will put everything together again.”

“Even if you manage to rein in the others, how can you trust them?”

Before answering, he glanced to see if the waitress was about. She wasn’t. “Friedrich, in time most sheep stray from the flock. It doesn’t mean they must be slaughtered when they return. Sheep are sheep.” He leaned back. “I realized many things in Landsberg. Politicians preach socialism and promise to redistribute the country’s wealth to the masses. This makes the workers feel happy. It gains their votes. We will also preach this, but not do it. Otherwise, we would be no different than communists.”

“Your plan is to gain the trust of both the rich and the poor at the same time?”

“It’s the only way. We took those first steps at the Bechstein mansion. Those are the people we must target. Who else is going to fund us?”

“I understand, but what does this have to do with those disloyal men?

“Their message is wrong. Each of these men—Strasser, Himmler, and Goebbels, especially Goebbels—has a talent we need. Strasser and Himmler are great organizers. Goebbels is not only a brilliant speaker, but he understands how to manipulate events to enhance the party’s visibility to the public. Before Landsberg, I would have forced them to get in line . . . or worse. Now I realize that by repurposing their talents, they will better serve the party. Do you know why most revolutions fail?”

“For the same reason Kapp’s and ours failed: we thought we had the army and police behind us but didn’t.”

“Precisely. And I take the blame for leaving a fool general in charge of that trio of incompetents. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that Kahr betrayed us when he convinced Seisser and Lossow to abandon the putsch. Had they gone along with us, the putsch would have succeeded.” Wolf shook his fist. “We will see to Kahr one day.”

“Everything you’re saying makes sense. But how will you get the German people behind you to the point that we can take over the country?”

“The only way possible: win elections!”

Seeing that his fire and focus had returned, I needed to know what role I would play as he moved to regain power in the party. “What would you have me do?”

“Friedrich, it is still best to keep you out of the limelight. Once we take control of the government, you will no longer have to remain as guarded.”

“There’s still Pasewalk. I’m not sure I could ever be in the limelight.”

“No need discussing what we don’t control. For now, I want you to be my minister without portfolio. My unseen right hand.”

“To what end?”

“Remember how many important people attended the Bechstein party? There are countless others to meet. I don’t have time for small gatherings or one-on-one meetings. You do. Once the party is back under my aegis, my job is to increase membership so we’re a force to reckon with in the next election. I can only do this at rallies.”

“Are you forgetting that you are banned from speaking in public?”

He gave a sly smirk. “The way to get around that is for me to speak at private clubs and organizations that have lots of members. These talks will not be under party auspices, yet their effect will be the same. While I do that, you will be on a mission that only you and I know its true purpose.”

He reached into his breast pocket and handed me a letter. “Read it.”

My eyes sailed across the words. His name was signed at the bottom. I reread it a second time. The document confirmed my authority. The rest took my breath.

“It surprises you, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you’re willing to commit this on paper.”

“It’s the only way. The industrialists and the bankers must know we will protect them. You must explain that the elements threatening them in the twenty-five-point program are a thing of the past. Make them understand that we are capitalistic, not socialistic. This letter—with my signature—promises that. But show it only when absolutely necessary to establish your bona fides. It must never leave your possession.”

“If I am going to do this, I need to notify the Hamburg American Line that I’m quitting. They found a temporary replacement for this last trip I missed but will need to look for someone more permanent.”

“No. Make your next sailing. For now, arrange appointments between voyages. There is another advantage if you continue on the ship: cruises will give you fertile opportunities to meet wealthy people. In your case, you will have captive audiences. Engage them. Explain what we will do to ensure their wealth. Win them to our side.”

“This plan could take years.”

“Saplings don’t bear fruit overnight. We’ll take the time necessary to build a proper base. Keep your job and see industrialists whenever the boat is in for refitting.”

“Am I supposed to ask for money at these visits?”

“Strike when they are excited about our program. Some will write you a check. Others will hand you cash. One of our partners is Deutschebank. The bank has already made a handsome donation to the party. You will have access to their branches across the country. Open bank accounts as needed, with me as the co-signature. If you receive a check, deposit it in our account. If you receive cash—and I know you will—deposit that in a bank vault in our name. When your business is finished with one industrialist, move on to another”

“What if they won’t see me?”

Wolf shrugged. “Some will; many may not. Those who receive you are the ones who understand that their economic lives are at stake. Their houses, their factories, their money in the bank, everything is at risk if the Reds take over Germany. You’ll see. As we grow stronger and our chance for power increases, they will line up to give us money.”

“Setting up meetings with industrialists and wealthy families costs money. Money we don’t have.”

“Frau Buckmann—you remember her from the last party—has opened an account in the party name in Deutschebank. You will have access to it as needed.”

He ended our talk with a simple directive. “Each time you return from a trip, if I am not available, check with Emil or Hess to see if I need you. If I do, you’ll ask for another leave of absence. If I don’t, continue on these voyages and solicit our wealthy countrymen. I cannot emphasize how important your role is to the future of our party.”

Even though I wanted to help Wolf and the party, I was glad that I could continue working on the ship a while longer. Now I could accomplish both at the same time.

“Tomorrow we start,” Wolf said, rubbing his hands together.

“But you just said I should return to my ship.”

“I have already checked. It doesn’t leave for three days. That’s plenty of time for us to go to Haus Bechstein, where we are promised a welcoming audience. I am expected to give a brief speech. This will give you a chance to arrange for private sessions in the future, with as many industrialists as you can. Besides, Frau Bechstein expects you to give another recital. And then there’s Lotte.”

“She’s a child.”

“She’s older now.”

At best, the girl was only sixteen. “Why put yourself in that situation?”

“It’s clear Frau Bechstein is angling for me to marry the girl. She calls me Wölfchen. She openly speaks of an engagement to Lotte. I’ll humor her for a few days. Make her feel special. It’s the least I can do for arranging this reception and giving me that new Mercedes. I make both happy . . . and the party gets more money.”