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Cast
in order of appearance
Eva (age 9-11) Lauren Patten
Helga Diane Oppenheim
Evelyn Bonnie Hilton
Faith Stephanie Rychlowski
Lil Patti Roeder
Shadow of the Ratcatcher Peter Terlep
Voice of the Ratcatcher David Bremer
Nazi Officer David Bremer
English Organizer David Bremer
Postman David Bremer
Station Guard David Bremer
Eva (age 15-17) Amanda Dieli
Dramaturg Notes
History: The Kindertransport
by Heinz Karplus
The Kindertransport rescued thousands of Jewish
children from the atrocities of Hitler. In late 1938, Nazis throughout
Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia burned synagogues, ravaged
businesses, condoned muggings, and carried out humiliating random
arrests. They enforced numerous new laws prohibiting Jews from practicing
their professions or accessing public areas. Even before the worst
events, it became clear that the only remedy was escape. But to
where?
The world had already closed its borders, fearing
competition for the few scarce jobs available in most depressed
economies. The United States kept strict quotas in place limiting
immigration. In Great Britain, a movement for the care of children—eventually
known as the Refugee Children’s Movement—appealed to their government.
This determined coalition of Jewish, Quaker, and other Christian
groups pleaded with the government to admit endangered children
between the ages of 5 and 17. They hounded members of Parliament,
and they agreed to post a 50-pound bond for each of the children
(approximately $1,500 in today’s money), “to assure their ultimate
resettlement.” On November 21, 1938, the British government announced
their approval for the Kindertransport, launching a massive train
and boat transport to bring the persecuted youth to safety.
Thus, in the nine months preceding the outbreak
of World War II, 10,000 children waved good-bye to their parents.
All hoped it would be a brief separation. For most it was a final
farewell. The last train left Germany just two days before the start
of the war.
As was their usual custom, the Nazis inflicted every
petty indignity upon the kinder. The children were forced to travel
first to Holland by train so as to not use German ports. Officials
at the boarder tore apart luggage looking for valuables or just
for fun. (The children were only allowed to take 10 Reichsmarks.)
The children were forced to travel in sealed trains.
In some cities, parents were not allowed to say
goodbye at the train stations so as to avoid any public spectacle.
In Holland the trains were met by committees of volunteers who gave
the children refreshments and helped them board the boats taking
them to their new homes.
Great Britain welcomed the children into their homes,
schools, and group camps. Even under the stress of war-time bombings
and shortages, hundreds of households welcomed the children into
their fold. Remarkably few of the displaced children were abused
or exploited. Hearts closed the gaps left by language, culture,
and religion. As war raged on the mainland, the children settled
into their new land, older ones clinging to memories and hopes,
younger ones leaving their roots and mother tongue behind.
The play Kindertransport tells a family’s story
of separation and loss. The
memories of that era affect the lives of everyone
even remotely connected to the survivors. Today many kinder, or
children of the transport, reunite around the world to celebrate
the generosity of the British people. Just as the loss of their
Jewish ancestors haunts each future generation, the bonds between
the rescued children and the families who reached out to them continue
into the future as well.
One Kinder’s Tale
by Heinz Karplus
Conditions changed gradually from unpleasant to
inconvenient to intolerable. For my family, living in Berlin
just before World War II, first our freedom, then our safety, and
finally our livelihood were whittled away. In succession, Jews were
prohibited from using parks, pools and other public facilities,
suffered an increase in muggings, and finally, were not allowed
to use the title of Doctor, nor to treat “aryans”.
Since my father was indeed a doctor, we reluctantly decided to emigrate.
My very patriotic father was nearly sixty. He had expected the Nazi
madness to blow over. His personal reluctance to emigrate was made
worse by the fact that every country in the world was rejecting
new immigrants who might take away precious jobs from their own
people. My mother’s brothers, who lived in the United States, sent
an affidavit guaranteeing that we would never become a public charge.
The magic of such an affidavit was much discussed, and we were envied
by those less fortunate. The affadavit earned us an interview at
the United States embassy, but with the quota system used at the
time, all we received was an assurance that our number was likely
to be called five or six years hence. In the mean time, we planned
a sojourn to Ecuador—hardly the place of choice. We started to learn
Spanish.
On Kristallnacht (the Night of Broken Glass), we
witnessed synagogues and Jewish-owned stores in ruins. An ominous
phone warned my father to stay away from home for a few days. We
celebrated my bar mitzvah in a makeshift hall after my 13th birthday
in February of 1939.
A few weeks earlier, we had heard that the British
were opening a small crack in the wall of the world: the Kindertransport
program. With a heavy heart my parents decided to avail themselves
of the opportunity.
When my little sister, Else, and I said goodbye
to Papa and Mama in early March, we were in much better shape than
most of the other children on the train headed for the Hook of Holland:
we were not sent “Into the Arms of Strangers”. We journeyed
toward one of my mother’s brothers who had settled in England. Unlike
our fellow travellers, Else and I were fluent in English, having
had British girls stay with us most of our lives. We were lucky
again two months later when our parents arrived in England (albeit
with the restriction that they could not engage in any employment,
paid or unpaid).
My uncle Leo was there for us all. At about the
same time my three cousins also came over on a Kindertransport.
Uncle George and his wife escaped to Denmark and
then to England just a few days before war broke out. They sailed
for America early in the war. The crossing was no picnic. They saw
several vessels in their convoy torpedoed and sunk.
Shortly after the war started, all adult male ‘enemy
aliens’—including my father—were interned to determine whether any
were spies. He was processed early, possibly because his age worked
in his favor. Manpower shortages caused a relaxing of the restrictions
on refugees, so my father took over the post of radiologist at three
hospitals in Cambridge until English doctors returned after the
war.
I attended high school and college in England. After
three years’ work in industry, I continued my journey to the United
States. My parents and sister settled in England, and eventually
were naturalized as British subjects. Else and I continue
to visit occasionally and keep in touch via mail, e-mail and telephone.
Acknowledgments:
Produced by special arrangement with Susan Schulman,
A Literary Agency,
454 West 44th Street, New York, NY.
Special Thanks:
The Kindertransport Association provided significant
research assistance for which we are grateful. We encourage you
to visit their website at www.kindertransport.org.
Marianne Tigchelaar graciously lent her Dutch accent to our sound
design, and we thank her.
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Production Credits
Director, Tony Vezner
Stage Manager, Carol Dapogny
Assistant Stage Manager, Liz Steele
Costume Designer, Linda Bremer
Costume Crew, Karen Babcock, Amy Coons, Joanne Patten, Patricia
Raffert, Jane Stacy, Dorothy Tressler
Dialect Coach (German), Heinz Karplus
Dramaturg, Heinz Karplus
Lighting Designers, Benton Bullwinkel, Noel Smith
Lighting Crew, Tom Frohnapfel, Mike Janke, Sandy Liakus, Paul Roach,
Rob Synder, Ruth Smith, Alicia Todd
Makeup Designer, Catherine Bloomer
Makeup Crew, Stephanie Abramowitz, Peg Callaghan, Betty Nelson,
Carolyn Redding, Stephanie Robey, Stephanie Williams
Properties Designers, Pat Huth, Debbie McHenry
Properties Crew, Peggy Carlson, Bill FitzGerald, Karen Holbert,
Dennis Hudson, Carin Klock, Susan Kosiarek, Kathleen Kusper, Mary
O’Dowd, Arlene Page, Marion Reis
Set Designer, Margaret Nikoleit
Set Construction Chairs, Mike Huth, Heinz Karplus
Set Construction Crew, Karen Arnold, Anne Cahill, Tim Feeney, Tom
Frohnapfel, Mark Hewitt, Art Kelly, Sandy Liakus, Craig Mahlstedt,
Rob Pold, Paul Roach, Bill Rotz, Todd Sleezer, Tom Squillo,
Set Painting Chairs, Donna Marie Kanak, Sandra O’Neal Lulay
Set Painting Crew, Stephanie Abramowitz, Maggie Bogovich, Tricia
Boren, Carol Clarke, Jan Frommelt, Bob Oliver, Pat Rafferty, Bill
Rotz, Susan Remy, Sandy Squillo
Sound Designer, Joe Nikoleit
Sound Crew, Jeff Arena, George Dempsey, Jon Genson
Video Operator, Gregg Valek
Production Box Office Chair, Mary Ellen Schutt
Production Box Office Crew, JoAnn Mallon, Jill Neely, Lori B. Proksa,
Janet Ryan-Grasso, Paulette Sarussi, Carol Suda, Virginia Swinnen
Production Group Sales Crew, Carol Clarke
Production Hospitality Crew, Carol Clarke, Pauline Gamble, Karen
Holbert, Caitlin Machak, Lisa Machak, Nikita Machak, Debbie Mills,
John Mills, Martha Niles, Janette Taft, Megan Wells
Production House Manager Crew, Susan Cardamone, Joe Delaloye, Jim
Dutton, Harry Hultgren, Roland Imes, Terry Locke, Bill Rotz, Tom
Schutt, Don Strueber, Denny Wise
Production Lobby Photo Display, Marjorie Mason Heffernan, Jane Stacy
Production Posters, Kathleen Kusper
Production Program Chair, Joe Nikoleit
Production Program Design, John Vilhauer
Production Publicity Chair, Cindy Perkins
Production Technical Director, Scott Pillsbury
Director’s Note
I don’t think I could have directed this play three years ago.
At that time, my only experience as a family member was in the
roles of my parent’s son and my wife’s husband. I did not know what
it meant to be a parent and how strong that bond could be. Today
my wife and I have two children who are an amazing source of joy
to us. It is only because I know this joy that I can understand
the emotional cost that the characters in this play are forced to
face. If asked to, could I put my children’s need for safety above
my need for them? Could I ship them away to be kept by strangers
with the possibility of not seeing them again? It’s difficult to
say.
The recent Academy Award-winning documentary Into the Arms of Strangers:
Stories of the Kindertransport contains the story of one man who
put his beloved daughter on the train to England—headed for safety
and the unknown.
Yet as he watched the train begin to pull out from the station,
he changed his mind. He succeeded in lifting his child through a
window of the moving train. They were not reunited for long. Soon
the Nazis sent the father, daughter, and the rest of their family
to Auschwitz. The young girl suffered through the remainder of the
war as a prisoner, and she lost her entire family. The father’s
loving impulse shaped the daughter’s tragedy. I could easily have
been that father.
Of course, in this play safety means many things: the physical
safety of young children, emotional safety, the safety that can be found in
assimilation, safety from our loved ones, safety from ourselves
and the choices we’ve made in our pasts, safety from evil.
Some people have asked me if this play needs to be done. Can’t
we simply put the Holocaust and all of its unpleasantness behind
us? Aren’t times different now? Don’t we know better?
I doubt that we do know better. In news reports over the past few
years I’ve heard events in Africa and Bosnia described with words
like “ethnic cleansing” and “refugees”. Even though I live in the
information age I find it hard to sort out what’s going on in these
places or to care about them on a meaningful level. There are too
many sensational things happening here in our own backyard—election
controversies, stock market mood swings, the weather. The same thing
was true in many countries during 1938 as they came out of the Depression.
Perhaps many mini holocausts are taking place all over the world
right now, and we are deaf to all of it—feeling it doesn’t concern
us.
I think we need plays like this to know that history does repeat
itself. Human nature remains a constant. Evil will always
be a threat. And in any era, parents and children must strive to
keep their bond of love safe in the face of the circumstances the
world will throw in its way.
About the Author
Diane Samuels was born in 1960 in Liverpool,
England. She studied history at the University of Cambridge, then
continued her training as a drama teacher at Goldsmith’s College
in London. This led to teaching for five years in secondary schools
in the city of London.
Since leaving the teaching profession, Diane Samuels has devoted
herself to writing. Among her plays for adult audiences are Watch
Out for Mister Stork
(1992) and Chalk Circle (1991). She has also written a number of
children’s theatre plays, including Forever and Ever (1998), One
Hundred Million Footsteps (1997), How to Beat a Giant (1995), The
Bonekeeper (1992) which was short-listed for the W.H. Smith Award
for plays for children, Frankie’s Monster (1991) which is also known
as The Monster Garden, and The Life and Death of Bessie Smith (1989).
She has also penned a number of radio plays for the BBC, some adapted
from her stage plays, aimed at both adult and children’s audiences.
They include Doctor Y (1997), Hardly Cinderella (1997), Swine (1996),
Watch Out for Mister Stork (1994), Two Together (1993), and Frankie’s
Monster (1992). Diane Samuels resides in London with her husband,
writer and journalist Simon Garfield, and their two sons.
Kindertransport is the first of Diane Samuels’ plays to be produced
at the Theatre of Western Springs.
About the Play
Kindertransport was first performed by the Soho Theatre Company
at the Cockpit Theatre in London on April 13, 1993. It premiered in the
United States at the Manhattan Theatre Club in New York on April 26,
1994. Both productions were directed by Abigail Morris. The author has described Kindertransport as “a play with
universal themes set in a very specific context.” Indeed, according to its many
favorable reviews, the play succeeds on both specific and universal levels.
The play has been honored a number of times. It won the 1992
Verity Bargate Award, and the 1993 Meyer Whitworth Award.
Kindertransport has been performed throughout Great Britain, the
United States, Canada, Sweden, Austria, Germany, and South Africa (where
the play’s themes of memory and repression were felt to echo apartheid
experiences).
The playwright adapted the script into a radio play in 1995 and
is currently working on a screenplay of the work.
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