Sunday Matinee at the Warner, 1961

During the winter school vacation in 1961, my brother Tom and I were being domestic hinderances. So our mother dropped us off at the Warner Theater on downtown Washington, DC, to see the movie El Cid. She gave us money for the admission, some popcorn and sodas, and money to ride the trolley home. Tom and I were excited--a BIG SCREEN color-knights-in-armor-epic with Sophia Loren no less.

We were late--the show had already started. We went in and found seats. Only it was not El Cid (those days, there was only one theater to a location). The film was definitely NOT El Cid. Our first clue was that the film was black and white. The second clue was there was a lot of people in a courtroom and the chief judge, looked just like a cross between our father and Spencer Tracy.

"What should we do," I asked brother Tom (3.75 yrs my junior).

"It's a double feature," he said with certainty. "El Cid is next."

Fine. Why not? It was sort of like watching Perry Mason, anyway. What's not to like?

But, then, the guy who played the crazy gangster who pushed an old lady down the stairs laughing all the while, got up and told Dad he was going to show a film as part of his prosecution case.

Suddenly, the innocent twelve and nine year old boys who were sitting in our seats were gone. It was footage of the liberation of Bergen Belson. It was the first time we ever heard of the Shoah, let alone saw anything remotely like those images.

When the film was over, we went out into the lobby and discovered that El Cid was coming next week. This Sunday, Judgment at Nuremburg was finishing its opening DC run. We deliberated and then asked the manager if we could stay to see the beginning of the film--since we missed the opening. No problem. So, we went back into the theater and watched it again.

Tonight and tomorrow, Israel will mark the Shoah. Tonight, places of "entertainment" will close at sunset and tomorrow, mid morning, the sirens will wail. Wherever they are, Israelis will stop, go outside, and listen to that mournful wail.

Stanley Kramer's film is powerful for many reasons, most importantly because it broke the silence. The question of "how did I get here" confounds rationality--how indeed.



When I went a-searching for clips from the work, I wanted to find the liberation footage Kramer used and Widmark presented. Alas, it is not there. Instead, I found this presentation of the liberation and post liberation process of the camp. It is very strong stuff. Perhaps this is why it is not enabled for embedding. It asks the other question of our time, "My God, what have I done?"

The premise of Yom HaShoah, the day to remember the Holocaust, has always been "lest we forget". Today, that risk is greater than ever before. In a complete mockery of history and the real crimes of racism, voices of hatred are once again directed at Jews for the sake of being Jewish. Once again, the world is facing a situation of existential proportions--about the size of the population of an entire modern state. Regardless of the political process, it is the experience of the Holocaust that requires remembering.

Here is the remembering of Ronald Reagan in 1985. It is an audio with the one picture of the open grave before it was closed. It helps if you bow your head, close your eyes, and just listen.



May God send peace to all who mourn and give us strength to not stand idly by.