Wally Brock née Snopek

From the Memories of Wally Brock's son Walter:

My maternal grandparents Sara and Philipp Snopek ran a bar and restaurant which was located on the street level floor of the house. My grandparents had an apartment above the restaurant where I lived with my parents and grandparents. The address was Gipsstraße 23b in Berlin-Mitte. The neighborhood was what one might refer to as a blue-collar working class area.

In 1939, when I was 7 years old, I started school. There were separate schools for Jews. It was at this time that I began to notice that there were ever increasing signs posted on the doors of Gentile establishments. They said, “Forbidden for Jews”.

I still recall “Kristallnacht” when a horde of Nazis going systematically from one Jewish establishment to the next, destroying everything inside. They must have used axes and hammers. From our apartment I could watch the whole horror from the window of our living room. There was a piano in my grandparents’ restaurant and I can still recall the cacophony of the keys as they were being smashed.

I don’t know if it was that same year or the next year; but I do know that it was on Yom Kippur when Nazi soldiers came knocking on our apartment door. They had guns and demanded that my grandparents hand over any gold or art, jewelry or other items of value. They took the candle stick holders which we used for lighting the candles on Friday nights.

Fortunately my father Karl Brock was able to leave in 1938. His father was born in the United States and this enabled him to leave on an American Passport; he was declared an American Citizen. Unfortunately my mother and I had to remain behind until he could amass sufficient funds so as to send for us. These were the hardest times for my mother. It was during these years that I have recollections of very traumatic experiences.

Finally in 1941, after my mother Wally’s great efforts, we managed to get out of Germany. I recall the morning that we left. My grandparents accompanied us to the train station. We went by subway to the main railroad station. All the way on the subway I recall just staring out of the window as I did not want my grandparents to see my face for fear that I would burst into tears.

We took the railroad to Paris and sat in 3rd class for 18 hours. We were cramped and at one point the train stopped in Paris and we did not know if the Germans would permit the train to continue. It was a frightening moment for everyone. Well, we finally got going once more and the next stop was Irun in Spain. Next was Barcelona where we spent about two weeks, then boarded the ship, sailed through the Straits of Gibraltar to Lisbon, then on to the Canary Islands - and finally to the United States where my father was waiting in New York.

Walter’s grandparents Sara and Philipp Snopek were deported on August 15, 1942. They were murdered in Riga three days after their arrival. Walter and his parents settled in New York, Today, Walter Brock lived on the West Coast.