NAIDOC Week: William Cooper’s Legacy

The roots of NAIDOC Week can be traced back to the 1920s and 30s when First Nations rights groups took formation and staged boycotts and marches on the Australian government.

Instrumental in these actions was William Cooper, who led the 1938 Day of Mourning march, which demanded constitutional powers for Aboriginal people.

📷 William Cooper, circa 1937.

Cooper holds a special position in the Sydney Jewish Museum for his incredible empathy for the plight of all persecuted peoples, including the Jews of Europe.

On November 9-10,1938, Jewish businesses, synagogues, houses and schools were destroyed, dozens of people were killed and 30,000 men were arrested and taken to concentration camps, in what is known as Kristallnacht — the night of broken glass – the pogrom that would become the precursor to the Holocaust.

It sent a wave of fear and terror through Germany, Europe and the rest of the world and William Cooper could not stay silent. Cooper was quickly moved to action and led a march on the German Consulate in Melbourne.

He and his delegation were refused entry, and little attention was attracted to the cause at the time. However, 72 years after his efforts, Cooper was honoured by Yad Vashem. Cooper’s legacy is recognised in our Holocaust exhibition for his outreach to the Jewish community. You can also find him recognised in our Holocaust and Human Rights exhibition for his immense efforts for the rights of First Nations Australians.

Cooper’s descendants retain their close affiliation with the rights of oppressed peoples and continue to honour them through the Museum, as a place for the promotion of the rights of all.

Image: Reconstruction of the petition by Australian Aborigines’ League in 1938 (detail). Courtesy of the Cooper Family. 

International Museum Workers Day: A Profile on Resident Historian Konrad Kwiet

Thursday 28 June is International Museum Workers Day. On this day, we recognise our longest serving staff member, Resident Historian Emeritus Professor Konrad Kwiet, whose service to the Sydney Jewish Museum predates its official opening 25 years ago.

Konrad was instrumental in the creation of the historical framework for the Museum during its inception: he was the critical eye that governed the historical accuracy and authenticity of the proposed exhibition content. As the Museum’s collection, professional team and body of knowledge have grown over the years, Konrad has continued to ensure authenticity and best practice of collecting, curating and presenting the historical period of World War II and its aftermath.

Konrad’s academic clout is well-recognised among historians. He was appointed as Chief Historian at the Australian War Crimes Commission (SIU) in the mid-1980s, where he provided invaluable assistance in its belated attempt to bring Holocaust perpetrators residing in Australia to justice. He has read and listened to more than 1,000 testimonies of Holocaust survivors, and has published 10 books and more than 100 articles.

From a historian’s perspective, Konrad maintains that what is more important than teaching people facts, “is making them aware of what they themselves derive or conclude from the facts. We need to build and enhance critical awareness so that people question, try to find answers and develop the capacity to think critically.” Professor Kwiet prides the Museum on its ability to maintain relevance by “providing this trigger to think, question authority, question the past and question tradition.”

The Museum is incredibly fortunate to have had Konrad’s ongoing input on all of its projects, exhibitions and programs, and is perpetually humbled by his immense expertise.

Photograph by Katherine Griffiths.

World Refugee Day: Bridging the gap

Today is World Refugee Day: an annual global day of commemoration and a vehicle through which to raise awareness about issues affecting refugees. It is also a time to celebrate  the  positive contributions of refugees to their respective societies. In keeping with this year’s theme, #WithRefugees, we recount an encounter from a recent school visit to the Sydney Jewish Museum that serves as a reminder of the courage and resilience of refugees, and the importance of bridging gaps of experiences through the sharing of stories.

In the last year, primary school students made up ten percent  of the 25,000 students visiting the Sydney Jewish Museum. The Museum’s Education Department gets vicarious pleasure when primary school students eagerly ask questions to Holocaust survivors. Their curiosity is contagious and our survivors feel fulfilled after speaking to these young visitors.

Last month the Museum welcomed Darlinghurst Public School’s Year 6 class; a school from our own neighbourhood. The class listened spellbound as Holocaust child survivor Alice Loeb shared her testimony.

Alice shared the story of her parents’ struggle and her family’s survival in Switzerland as stateless Jews during WWII. After the war, Alice’s parents, both from the same neighbourhood in Vienna, Austria, tried to gain Swiss citizenship. This, however, was denied to them, and as refugees in Switzerland, they were obliged to report weekly to the police station. At  the age of three, Alice came with her parents and baby brother as refugees to Sydney, Australia, on the Dutch liner, Johan de Witt. Alice’s family moved into a tiny apartment on William Street in Kings Cross, where Alice attended Woolloomooloo Preschool. There she has an early memory of a girl calling her a “dirty Jew”; something she did not comprehend at the time but has never forgotten.

The next turn of Alice’s story delighted the Year 6 class: she revealed that, at the age of 5, she started primary school at Darlinghurst Public School. The students were palpably overjoyed to claim Alice as one of their own, and proceeded to probe her with questions about what their school was like all those years ago. They commiserated on hearing about her scratchy serge tunic and were amazed that boys and girls were separated in class and on the playground. The students found it hard to believe that this feisty Holocaust survivor, who had them eating out of the palm of her hand, was once a timid pupil at their school.

Alice’s story, and the diverse stories that Holocaust survivors deliver daily in the Museum, are constant reminders of the dignity and hope that lay within people who are forced to seek refuge from persecution. This is a universal lesson that we find in experiences of the Holocaust and continue to see beyond barriers of time and geography, more than 80 years after the rise of Nazism.

Image: Holocaust child survivor Alice Loeb (Second row, first on the right) at Darlinghurst Public School, 1951, SJM Collection.

Holocaust survivor awarded Order of Australia Medal

The Sydney Jewish Museum is proud to announce that Holocaust survivor Yvonne Engelman, long-serving volunteer at the Sydney Jewish Museum since its inception in 1992, was recognised on the Queen’s Birthday honour list with a Medal of the Order of Australia.

Yvonne received a medal for her service to the Jewish community through her intimate and dedicated involvement with the Museum for over 25 years, her service to the Australian Association of Jewish Holocaust Survivors and Descendants, as well as the Board of Jewish Education.

Yvonne was born in 1927 in Dovhe, Czechoslovakia. She was deported to the Berehove ghetto, where she was held for four months, before incarceration at Auschwitz-Birkenau in 1944. An only child to her parents and an only grandchild to her grandparents, Yvonne was the sole survivor of her family upon liberation in 1945.

She moved to Australia in 1948 where she met her husband, John, who was also a survivor. Together they worked hard to learn English, re-establish themselves and raise a new family.

The Sydney Jewish Museum congratulates Yvonne Engelman alongside Volunteer Manager Rony Bognar and all other deserving community members for the recognition received for their service to diverse aspects of the Jewish and wider Australian community.

Image: SJM Collection. Photograph by Katherine Griffiths.

A Profile of Eleanor Roosevelt

Eleanor Roosevelt – wife of President Franklin D. Roosevelt –  was an outspoken public figure in her own right.  Fiercely independent, she was an author, humanitarian, and champion of diverse social causes who helped draft the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

Not content to stay confined to domestic issues — and unafraid to ruffle the feathers of the many critics who complained that she was overstepping her role — she held her own press conferences, wrote her own newspaper column, travelled abroad to support American troops during World War II, and frequently spoke out on issues of women’s rights, children’s issues, helping the poor, and combating racial discrimination. Following the death of her husband, she served as a delegate to the United Nations General Assembly and became chair of the Human Rights Commission where she contributed to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – the most widely recognised statements of the rights of all.

The Declaration serves as a yardstick to measure government performance by organisations and governments all over the world, but is not binding. It has influenced the constitutions and legislation of many countries. It has had far reaching influences on treaties around the world.

Although Mrs. Roosevelt was proud of her role in shaping the Universal Declaration, she was always a realist. She knew its words were not self-enforcing. The real challenge, she liked to tell United Nations delegates in later years, was one of ”actually living and working in our countries for freedom and justice for each human being.”

That is a challenge she readily accepted, and her example is one that inspires us today.

Author: Sandy Hollis, Education Officer

A rare coincidence – Shavuot

Did you know that Shavuot is the only biblical festival that does not have a specific date prescribed in the Torah? Instead, the Torah merely instructs that Shavuot must fall on the fiftieth day “after Shabbat”.

But which Shabbat?

There are two different schools of thought. One holds that that this refers to the first Shabbat of Pesach, while another holds that it refers to the first day of Pesach itself (which is like a Shabbat, as it is a day of rest).

Those in the first group mark Shavuot on a different calendar date every year, but always on a Sunday, since a Sunday will always be the fiftieth day after a Shabbat. Those in the second group celebrate the festival on the 6th day of the Hebrew month of Sivan, since this is always the fiftieth day after the first day of Pesach.

Whilst once an irresolvable calendrical dilemma that divided pilgrims’ celebrations, Jewish law now designates that Shavuot falls on the 6th of Sivan. Sivan is a spring month in the Hebrew lunar calendar, which tends to coincide with the Gregorian months of May or June.

This year, we find ourselves at a rare juncture. Since the first day of Pesach fell on a Shabbat, the 6th of Sivan also falls on a Sunday. Although it is not a major concern for Jews these days, this rare event might symbolise the uniting of different customs in the celebration of one of the most important Jewish festivals.

“It’s just what is in your heart”

Recently, a visitor to the Museum reminded us, and Holocaust survivor Olga Horak, of the importance of sharing poignant stories of suffering and survival with younger generations.

Some months after the Museum’s 25th birthday event, an envelope arrived at the Museum for Olga from a gentleman who attended the event. This gentleman had spent some time with Olga at the celebrations, and he and his daughters had listened to Olga and learnt about her experiences during and after the Holocaust.

Despite the passage of time after their meeting, the poignancy of Olga’s story of survival was not dulled for this gentleman. Some weeks after this encounter, a touching two-page letter addressed to Olga was delivered to the Museum, accompanied by a delicately engraved, heart-shaped gold locket holding photographs of Olga’s family inside.

In his letter, the gentleman expressed his wish to send some small reminder of what is truly important in life: “It’s not a house, it’s certainly not a car – it’s just what is in your heart.”

On the Ship that Launched a Nation

When our curators delved into the Museum archive to select some of the most intriguing, unexpected objects in the collection for our current temporary exhibition, Unseen Untold: Our Curious Collection, they came across some that didn’t make the cut but were too interesting not to share on our blog.

Here is a snippet from our ‘Director’s Cut’:

Following the Second World War millions of people were displaced from their homes. For the survivors of the Holocaust, returning to life as it had been was impossible. Antisemitism and the haunting memories of their destroyed communities forced them to look afar. There were few options for emigration and little regard for their plight. Homeless survivors languished in Displaced Person Camps for years.

Jewish survivors increasingly looked to Zionism; their nationalism was heightened by lack of autonomy in the camps and having few destinations available to them. The British government, which controlled Palestine, refused to let large numbers of Jews in. Illegal immigration, the Brihah (Hebrew for flight or escape) was the only option.

Esther Starzynski had fled her home in Poland only to be interned in Siberia. Released several years later, she travelled to Georgia, hoping to go through Turkey to Palestine. She married and her young family made their way back to Europe dreaming of finding another route to Palestine.

In 1947 Esther, her husband, and two children secured places on the Exodus, a ship with over 4,500 illegal immigrants hoping to get to Palestine. Most of the emigrants were Holocaust survivors without the necessary migration documents. Esther bought this suitcase to carry their few belongings on the trip.

Like many before, the British intercepted the ship. But the passengers resisted. Ultimately, the British took the refugees to Hamburg, Germany, and forcibly returned them to DP camps. The ship’s ordeals made international headlines and caused the British government much public embarrassment. Attitudes to the plight of Holocaust survivors began to change, increasing international pressure on Great Britain to allow free Jewish immigration to Palestine.  The family eventually made it to Palestine, where they settled near Haifa.

Author: Shannon Biederman, Curator

Judaica with an Australian twist is rare to come by

With Pesach around the corner, the Sydney Jewish Museum is excited to have acquired a rare and possibly unique item of Judaica for the collection: a ‘Seder’ (Passover) plate. Purchased through a grant from the Australiana Society, this plate has joined our relatively small collection of Australian-made Judaica objects in the Museum archive.

The plate, in the shape of a six-pointed Star of David, was hand-made by Vande Pottery, a Sydney commercial pottery that operated until 1958, and it is the only one that we know of to date.

The pottery was originally established in Mosman in the early 1950s. It was purchased by Samuel Vandesluis, an English migrant with Dutch-Jewish heritage, who renamed it ‘Vande Pottery’. Samuel Vandesluis recognised the opportunity for producing Australian pottery and concentrated on the growing demand for souvenirs, or ‘Australiana’.

In addition to the thousands of wall plaques, ashtrays, dishes and platters that Vande produced, they also designed some one-off pieces which could be placed in the fine art category. All were hand-painted and many of the decorators came from East Sydney Technical College. Vandesluis appreciated his designers, allowing his craftsmen to add their signatures to the pieces they made.

Of particular note to us were the two decorators employed at Vande who could write Hebrew. Marlene Adams decorated and signed this Seder plate. She used gold paint to mark the placement of the ritual food items – salt water, bitter herbs, parsley, lettuce, haroseth (a mixture of chopped apple, nuts and wine to symbolise bricks and mortar), egg and shankbone. These foods are significant to the ritual retelling of the Exodus from Egypt, and are symbolic of freedom from oppression and slavery.

As the Museum continues to stumble upon unique and local representations of the ancient culture of Judaism, discoveries of objects like this Australian-made Seder plate reminds us that in a democratic country like Australia, we should always be grateful for our religious freedom.

Author: Roslyn Sugarman, Head Curator

Ruby Rich, a pioneering Jewish feminist

To celebrate International Women’s Day, we are celebrating a Jewish feminist who was active decades before Australia’s Women’s Liberation Movement of the 1960s and 1970s. Ruby Rich came from a wealthy Jewish family. Yet, despite her protected childhood, or perhaps because of it, Ruby rebelled. A gifted concert pianist, Ruby wanted to make her music her career. Her father was outraged: “Ladies did not pursue a career”, but finally he relented slightly and in 1907 took her abroad to finish her education.

In England, Ruby was introduced to feminist ideas, but these interests were interrupted by compulsory volunteer work during World War I. Back home in the 1920s, Ruby founded Australia’s first birth control clinic and became a member of the Racial Hygiene Association – later renamed the Family Planning Association – and devoted fifty years to these causes. In fact, the group’s original name led to its investigation by national security in the 1940s, as it was thought to have overtones of antisemitism, which could not be further from the truth. For different reasons the Association nevertheless shocked many. Its original aims were to educate people about venereal disease; to have the need for sex education recognised; and to work generally in the field of eugenics.

The links established between the Jewish and non-Jewish feminists in the 1920s through the 1940s, led them to work together on many issues of equality, and Ruby Rich became associated with the fight for equality for women. She was a Member of the First Council for Action for equal pay in 1929. She fought for women becoming members of Parliament regardless of their politics, believing that the presence of a woman was all that really mattered. In 1922 she was the campaign secretary to Millicent Preston-Stanley, who sought election to Parliament. This campaign failed but Preston-Stanley later became the third woman to be elected to Parliament in Australia and the first in New South Wales. Later, Ruby Rich became associated with feminist Jessie Street and acted as Jessie’s campaign manager when she ran for Parliament, albeit unsuccessfully, in the 1940s as part of the Women for Canberra movement.

Ruby Rich married Dr Maurice Schalit later in life and became involved in various Zionist causes, sharing this with her husband who had previously lived in Palestine. In 1936, before her marriage, Ruby founded the Australian Friends of Hebrew University, and in 1937 she was elected as WIZO’s first Federal President, a position which she retained for three years. Ruby never stopped working for a variety of women’s organizations. In 1980, at the age of 92, she established a halfway house for women released from prison. In 1967, Ruby was awarded the MBE and in 1975 she was awarded the United Nations Peace Medal. The Anzac Peace Prize followed in 1987.

Ruby died in 1988, one month before her 100th birthday.

Image: Archive of Australian Judaica (detail)

The modern day Haman and an ironic remnant

Visitors to the Museum may notice a damaged scroll in a cabinet next to our Kristallnacht display. What might the relationship be between the destruction of Jewish homes and property and this ancient text?

The scroll of Esther contains a story that tells of a genocidal campaign waged over two thousand years before the word “genocide” was to belatedly enter the English language. The viceroy Haman, second-in-command to the Persian emperor himself, embarks on a mission to eradicate the Jews in over one hundred provinces: from India in the east, to Ethiopia in the Persian empire’s west.

Scholars have long debated whether or not this story really happened. Its main characters, outside of the Hebrew Bible, are not attested in the historical record – leastways, not be the names that they are called within this particular scroll. And whether believable or not as a narrative, the way that it is constructed would testify to its being a well-crafted (and thoroughly deliberated) piece of literature.

For some two thousand years, the story of Esther and her cousin Mordekhai has excited and inspired Jews around the world. The festival of Purim, on which we celebrate the termination of Haman’s evil plans and the salvation of the Jewish people, remains to this day an occasion for feasting and great celebration.

In 1938, the genocidal campaign on which the Nazis had embarked was in full swing. They were two years shy of enacting policies that would allow for the widespread murder of Jews throughout their sphere of influence, but through a mix of violence and intimidation, and through the increasing pressure of legislation that was designed to marginalise and isolate Jewish communities within the Reich, the cultural eradication of Jewish life was well under way.

For the first time in all of Jewish history, the story related in the book of Esther was about to be enacted. For the first time, despite a long history of intermittent persecution, a government was going to exercise its unprecedented ability to completely eradicate the Jewish people of Europe. Only this would not be the story of Esther and Mordekhai. This story would not result in salvation for the Jews and a turning of the tables for their erstwhile oppressors. In this story, Haman would win.

In November of 1938, while synagogues throughout Germany and Austria were burning, untold numbers of Germans watched, unable to intervene. The stories of individual acts of heroism and resistance (both on the part of German civilians and police officers) is inspiring, but more striking is their paucity. By 1938, the state had thoroughly repressed all possibilities of anti-Nazi sentiment. By 1938, the German concentration camps had already been operating for five long years, many of their inmates being Germans who dared speak out against their government.

Amongst the various artefacts salvaged from burning synagogues at this time is a scroll of Esther. We do not know who rescued it, nor even whether or not they were Jewish. Damaged in parts to the point of illegibility, it nonetheless survives as a mute witness to the horrors of the period. Its content is starkly ironic: where the scroll speaks of a genocidal campaign averted, the scroll’s damage testifies to a genocidal campaign that succeeded. And yet, the very real possibility that it was a non-Jewish German who saved this scroll reminds us of how little we know about the thoughts and opinions of ordinary people at this critical time.

Author: Simon Holloway, Education Officer

“Man’s desire for peace lies behind this Declaration.”

“Man’s desire for peace lies behind this Declaration. The realisation that the flagrant violation of human rights by Nazi and Fascist countries sowed the seeds of the last world war has supplied the impetus for the work which brings us to the moment of achievement today.”
– Eleanor Roosevelt, 10 December 1948

Born in part from the need to implement a legal framework around human rights following the genocidal crimes of the Nazis, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was proclaimed in 1948.

Three years after the end of World War II, the Declaration was presented by the United Nations General Assembly in Paris on 10 December 1948. The document presents the standards of fundamental human rights that are to be universally protected; its key promises translated into over 500 languages. This document was passed alongside the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide.

Although a positive step towards the protection of the inalienable rights of individuals, races, ethnicities and religions, these enactments by the UN come under criticism as the world has, since 1948, continued to witness heinous crimes.

The Declaration is, in fact, non-binding and excludes important groups of rights holders, such as indigenous peoples. The Convention does not cover population expulsions, cultural genocide, or persecution of political groups. As well, neither of these documents seriously inhibits state sovereignty.

So whilst Eleanor Roosevelt’s words on 10 December 1948 are poignant and inspiring, it is our duty to revisit human rights history, and the successes and challenges of its legislation, 70 years later. As a people who ourselves have been vulnerable, it is our duty to care about others when they are vulnerable, too.

The Sydney Jewish Museum’s new permanent exhibition, The Holocaust and Human Rights, takes as its starting point this crucial moment in human rights history, for both its successes and its major pitfalls. Australian Human Rights Commissioner Edward Santow expressed, at the launch of the new exhibition, the very urgency that the world felt in 1948 for a new way of organising itself, and a similar urgency today that for every violation there is a triumph or a victory for human rights and for dignity of all humans.

Image: UN Photo

The sinister banknote

Education Officer and Currency Aficionado, Simon Holloway, lets you in on some facts about one of the world’s lesser known, and incredibly short-lived, currencies.

Focusing on the currency issued by the Nazis in Theresienstadt, Simon explains that several of the ghettos and concentrations camps in operation as part of the Third Reich had Nazi-issued local currencies in circulation. The main purposes of these currencies were to defraud the population of cash and goods and, in so doing, create a false sense of stability amongst inmates. Money sent to inmates, as well as valuable personal effects, were exchanged by the SS for the local currency, which inmates could use only amongst themselves in their own micro-economy.

The Nazis issued local banknotes in the Theresienstadt concentration camp in mid-April 1943; the currency was referred to as the ‘Crown’. The notes themselves featured a lavish and thoroughly Jewish-themed design: a classically ‘Semitic’ profile of Moses holding the Ten Commandments, and the signature of Jakob Edelstein, the Elder of the Jews in Theresienstadt.

Their design tells us that not only were the banknotes lulling inmates into oblivion about their fate, but that they served a propagandistic purpose. Nazis were able to prove to bodies such as the International Red Cross how comfortable life was for Jews in this camp. This was communicated by means of a propaganda film made on-site (although never screened), and by allowing the Red Cross access into the actual camp.

In fact, the overwhelming majority of the population of Theresienstadt was murdered, including Jakob Edelstein, who was killed in Auschwitz in 1944.

People interned in Theresienstadt earned stipends of these Nazi-issued Crowns in the performance of their various jobs, and they were encouraged strongly to spend it. In actuality, there was virtually nothing that the money could be used for. Entering a café cost 5 Crowns, and consuming tea or coffee (both fakes, or ersatz) cost another 2 Crowns. Shops were erected in which people could purchase items confiscated from Jews when they entered Theresienstadt. However, the goods were priced so dearly that they were unattainable. Working men and women in relatively prominent positions, earned between 95 and 205 Crowns per month. As a result of the attainability of goods, the money never circulated. Borrowing books from the library cost a 50 Crown deposit, but since the money was effectively worthless, unable to give access to anything of real value, nobody ever bothered collecting their deposits back. By the end of the war, the Theresienstadt library had over 200,000 Crowns in uncollected deposits.

What is interesting when looking at the Theresienstadt banknotes on display in the Sydney Jewish Museum, is the near-pristine, mint condition of the paper notes. This is very telling of their existence as a vehicle for propaganda rather than an economic tool, and goes further to explain how there are so many notes that live in public and private collections today.

Tracing the roots of Greek Jewry

Our current Temporary Exhibition, The Jews of Greece, tells the rich and little-known story of Greek Jewry through photography and documentary film. Here is a little bit of background reading to catch you up on an ancient snippet of the past two and a half centuries of Jews living in Greece through the ages. This post will take you on a journey from the first century BCE through to the end of the Byzantine Empire.

We know from records dating back to the first century that during this time Jews lived in Greece, and that the Greek and Jewish communities shared similar sets of values and ideas relating to their approach to social conduct and humanism, among other things. So integrated into Hellenistic life, we find evidence of this symbiotic relationship in translations of the Old Testament from Ancient Hebrew into Greek from as early as 270 BCE.

With the Roman conquering of the Greek Empire and Jerusalem between 146 BCE and 70 CE, the Jewish community in Greece became larger and more established as the region was reshaped to include yet more Jews in the greater region. These Jews became known as Romaniotes. They adopted distinct practices and a unique dialect of the Greek language, Yevanic.

Flash forward to 395 CE, when Christianity was introduced by Constantine the Great and the Byzantine Empire was established. The enforcement of religious conversions under the Byzantine Romans made it difficult for Jews to uphold their traditions. Although their efforts to enforce conversions were non-violent (in comparison to anti-Jewish persecution that we see later in history), some Byzantine emperors imposed special Jewish taxes, and various religious heads often used using anti-Jewish rhetoric to emphasise the new prevailing Christian ideologies. Nonetheless, Romaniote Jewish communities kept a stronghold in Greece.

The Ottomans moved in on Byzantine Greece in the 14th century. Whilst Greece was busy struggling (and succeeding) to prevail for autonomy over the following 5 centuries, Jews continued to consolidate a centre for themselves in Greece: in the port city of Thessaloniki. During this time, Jews were being expelled from Spain and Portugal, and so began a wave of Sephardi Jews descending upon Ottoman Greece, and, at least for a little while, the religious practices and economic contributions of Romaniote and Sephardi Jews were welcomed.

The Modern Greek state has yet more ideological ebbs and flows of which to tell. From the Greek War of Independence in 1821 through Nazi Occupation during WWII, the very real story of a unique Jewish culture under pressure continues to unravel.

“…no trace of Rudi”

Every object tells a different story. Recently the Museum accessioned a diary which was penned by Holocaust survivor Elisabeth Epstein (nee Steiner). Those who knew her best, referred to her affectionately as Tante Elly (Aunt Elly).

This intimate record written in Paris, September 1939 to July 1940, portrays Elisabeth’s frustrations and fears over the imprisonment of her husband Rudolph (Rudi) Epstein at the outbreak of WWII. Interned as an enemy alien, Elisabeth visits Rudi twice after his arrest and then loses track of his location for 10 months as he is moved from camp to camp. Her diary entries communicate her increasing sense of despair.

“… no trace of Rudi and the disappointment cannot be described, none of them knew where Rudi went from Toulouse; I howled like a watchdog and sent cards in all directions”

Her final entry is the day they are reunited in Lyon, but the end of their “bitter separation” as she writes, is ultimately bitter sweet. In the months following, both Elisabeth and Rudi are arrested and sent to concentration camps. Rudi is murdered in 1943.

Author: Rachel Mensforth, Curator of Collections

Celebrating 25 years

Saturday 18 November marked the Sydney Jewish Museum’s momentous 25th birthday. Moving into our 26th year, we are taking some time to reflect upon the formative years of the Museum, and the incredible pioneering spirit of the Holocaust survivors so central to the Museum’s existence and relevance today.

On Sunday 19 November, nearly 30 survivors assembled in the Magen David foyer of the Museum around blue-and-white iced cake in the shape of ‘25’, to mark the tremendous achievements of their peers in growing and nurturing the seed that they planted 25 years ago.

On this occasion, Norman Seligman, CEO of the Sydney Jewish Museum, offers: “As we celebrate our 25th anniversary, it is important to remember the driving forces that gave rise to our creation. One such force was a desire by the generation of Holocaust survivors who came to Australia. They were determined to remember and honour those who were murdered during the Holocaust. Even before the Museum opened in 1992, they had been meeting, telling their stories and gathering artefacts.”

Hundreds attended the opening of the Museum on Wednesday 18 November 1992. It was an emotional event that signified the realisation of a long-anticipated and hard-earned dream for the survivor community. They finally had a single place at which to remember, commemorate and pass on the important messages of the Holocaust, particularly for those who were never able to.

The release of Steven Spielberg’s film Schindler’s List in 1994 brought the Holocaust into the Australian conscience, and the Museum experienced an influx of visitors wanting to learn more about this history.

Another key landmark event in the Museum’s history, and one of many more significant anniversaries to come, was the 50th Anniversary of Liberation in 1995. This year was highlighted by a tribute evening at the Sydney Opera House with talks by liberators, survivors and descendants. It was in this year, as well, that The Resource Centre was opened by former Prime Minister Bob Hawke AC GCL.

Securing its future as a longstanding feature of the Australian Jewish community, in 1998 the Sydney Jewish Museum formed a Committee of Management and became the 18^th member of the Jewish Communal Appeal.

In 1999, the Museum opened Within the Walls: The Theresienstadt Ghetto, the first major temporary exhibition since 1996, and the Museum’s first travelling exhibition.

In the year 2000, the Museum launched Project 120, the video-recording of Survivor Guides’ testimonies for preservation of their stories. The turn of the century marked an emphasised focus on history and memory, and the importance of personal story to understanding the Holocaust.

A destination within the Museum, the Children’s Memorial was opened in 2002. Each year since its dedication, photographs are added to the Memorial’s wall to continue the representation of community voices.

The 60th Anniversary of Liberation was celebrated in 2005 and, with this milestone, brought the record-setting student visitor attendance to 12,000.

The Museum acquired nearly 600 objects from the NSW Association of Jewish Ex-Servicemen and Women in 2007, which substantiated the Museum’s collection on Australian Jewish History. In 2010, the Museum took measures to showcase this collection in its new permanent exhibition space with the opening of Serving Australia: Jewish Contribution in Australian Military History.

Garnering much fanfare, Dressing Sydney: The Jewish Fashion Story was opened in 2012. In this same year, the Curatorial Department was successful in procuring its first loan from the Auschwitz Birkenau State Museum, Poland.

From 2015 to the present, the Museum has continued to grow into newly refurbished education and exhibition spaces with world class technologies for research and display of testimonies and artefacts. In 2017, after nearly 5 years of development, the Museum opened the new permanent Holocaust Exhibition, which will continue to allow visitors to engage with Holocaust history in dynamic ways, through new technologies and previously archived artefacts. Now educating more than 25,000 students and welcoming over 23,000 adults per year, the Museum proudly continues to maintain its relevance and pass on its key messages to the generations to come.

Save our history

When the Museum opened nearly 25 years ago, the Holocaust Survivors initiated a collection of Holocaust related material by donating precious objects and images. These personal belongings provide the narrative of experience and witness accounts that pave the journey through the Museum’s exhibits. It was in the community’s best interest that we safeguard these items and their cultural heritage as they are a valuable resource to academics, historians and students. Objects are touchstones to personal stories and much is lost when the story comes second-hand. History should be preserved for future generations, once lost it cannot be recovered.

The Sydney Jewish Museum is now embarking on another collection drive to rescue Holocaust related material in the community. There is urgency to this collection as we want to speak to the original owner and record their experience first-hand.

A concern voiced is that people don’t want to donate items to have them ‘sit in a storeroom’. Museums generally only exhibit between 1-9% of their collection at any time. We endeavour to make our collection available to researchers and we are always using items from our collection for the numerous temporary exhibitions we curate.

You may think that you do not have anything of value or that your story is not interesting, but every piece of evidence is a crucial part of the historical record. Please don’t hesitate to contact Shannon in the Sydney Jewish Museum Curatorial Department on (02) 9360-7999 and help us save our history.