First Person

Memories of Willi Munzenberg

The following are childhood memories of some people who were “Münzenberg Leute”—as they were then called. On my monthly visits to my mother, Münzenberg was too busy and too remote to bother with me. Yet I too fell under his spell when I first met him. It was Easter 1929 and I was six. I had been invited on a trip to the Brocken—the bare peak in the Harz Mountains where witches, mounted on broomsticks, fly to a satanic party. My aunt Leni delivered me to my mother’s car—parked discreetly round the corner from my grandfather’s flat. I was in…

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