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[p. 84]
Legal practice during the German occupation.
The courts resumed with almost entirely the same personnel, and began accepting cases again according to Latvia's laws.
Of course, those who were deported [to Siberia] on June 14. 1941 were missing. It was not long before everything seemed to
be going in the old way. The occupation force did not interfere in the legal order. It brought its own courts and supervision
over the Latvian courts. Consistently with the conditions of the occupation, the courts and their decisions were to be screened
by the occupiers; but in practice, the Germans mainly limited themselves to matters of military law.
It was not long before they began to persecute the Jews. At the beginning the Jews were forbidden to use the sidewalks,
and ordered to walk on the edge of the street. When they encountered a German officer or policeman, they were ordered to stand
facing the nearest fence or wall, looking away from the passer(s)-by. Soon enough they had to wear yellow stars on the front
and back of their clothing.
I remember that in the first days I met the lawyer Grodzenski on Nikolaja or Peldu Street, and we stopped to talk. I don't
remember if it was a German or a Latvian policeman who called out for him to step off the sidewalk into the street. He said
to me bitterly, see how he was being treated. Soon after that I heard that several Jews had been seized and were being held
in what had been the women's prison. I received the news that my neighbor, the lawyer Arkadijs Lipsics (Lipschitz), had been
imprisoned. I went to the prison to ask for his release. A young German, a lieutenant. angrily asked me what I was looking
for there, and what did I want? I answered that I wanted nothing for myself, but to bear witness in Lipsics's favor, since
I had heard he was accused of being a communist. I said that I was a leading member of the lawyers' council, and appointed
lawyers to cases. and so knew that Lipsics disliked representing communists; he had requested that I not assign him to their
cases. I knew he was an active opponent of the communists. The lieutenant made no promises, but two days later Lipsics sent
thanks for his release, knowing what my involvement meant. Later, according to acquaintances, he was shot to death together
with many others.
Once I happened to be in the county courthouse when I saw through the window as Jews were led out and made to get into
a sealed truck. They were guarded by a small group of German soldiers in naval uniforms. Among those led out I recognized
the young Licht, a soap factory owner. We could not look for long, because the guard at the prison gate gestured to us to
go away from the window; raising his rifle, he threatened to shoot. One day I received a note from the wife of the lawyer
Kantors, asking me to save her and her three children; they were to be taken away to be shot. The note gave no information
of who was holding them, or where, and so I was unable to do anything.
The lawyer Maksims Kaganskis was one of the [Liepaja Jewish] ghetto committee members; a second was named Israelits, but
I can't remember the third member's name. Kaganskis often came to my home for a piece of bacon or a pound of butter, since
fats were not issued with their food rations. He was always accompanied by a guard who had to be bribed, and came up the back
stairs. Once I was visited by a communist sent from Riga, named (if I recall) Fridrichsons, to whom I was to pass on Lipsics's
gold money, which would be used to buy a hiding place. I gave it to him with a paper specifying the amount involved, and noting
that he could contact me if he needed anything done. Much later, I heard that he (Fridrichsons or Kaganskis?) had died of
typhoid fever in Germany.
The lawyer Juris Valters's wife was Jewish; they were both shot at Priekule (town). Their son volunteered to fight for
the Germans. From time to time [the younger?] Valteris came into town, sometimes spending the night. He always asked for "carka"
(liquor). When I said that I only had home-made, called "dzimtenite" [homeland], he answered that "that's the
good stuff. " He had trouble getting along without alcohol; he had begun drinking as a student in St. Petersburg, and
never quit.
At first the Jews were brought out to the customs-house yard [to be shot], behind the Olimpijas field, where the fishermen
dry their nets. But local people began to protest, and the murders were moved beyond the naval base in the direction of Skede.
At that time I heard that the Germans were photographing those who were shooting-- Latvians-- for later uses. I heard that
Latvians were among the shooters, including one who had been an Olympic athlete. How many were shot, and how many were taken
away to Riga and elsewhere, it is impossible to know, since they were scattered to a variety of places. Once Kaganskis told
me a number, which I have forgotten; some time later he said there are still 103 of us, a number which did stay in my memory.
I once gave Kaganskis several 5-Lat coins [like silver dollars], and he brought back three shot glasses made using the
coins as bases, and two that used the coins as stems; one or two were kept as the price for making them.
I later gave one of those glasses to Kellers, the pastor of the Kemnat congregation (near Ulm, in the last year of the
war), who let me listen to the BBC news broadcasts on his radio. He hated Hitler immensely. He also knew the high Bavarian
(mountain) dialect well; I had him speak it to me, but didn't understand any of it. The Swabian dialect also sounded strange
to me.
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