Project Mah Jongg

                            Illustration by Christoph Niemann for Mah Jongg: Crak, Bam, Dot, a 2wice Books publication


We opened Project Mah Jongg earlier in the week.  It was, by far, the most fun we have had at any Museum opening and included the debut of a commissioned cocktail, the Mah Jongg Martini.  I include below an excerpt from my remarks at the opening which address why we decided to do this exhibition.

I will admit that the reaction to the news that we were doing an exhibition about mah jongg was different than what we normally get. I am quite frankly not used to people laughing when I tell them about forthcoming projects. In the case of Project Mah Jongg, the typical conversation would go something like this:

Museum Director: “You know, we are preparing an exhibition about the game of mah jongg?

Museum Supporter (or just about anyone I would meet): [giggle] “You’re kidding me…”

And so it would go, one after another.

More often than not, however, their next comment would be something like, “I remember my mother used to play….” It became wonderfully clear very quickly that this project tapped a rich vein of nostalgia and warm memories and has proven itself to fit squarely within the mission of this Museum.

Perhaps more than any other we have undertaken, this exhibition proves that this Museum is much more about life than death. To be sure, there is a tragic history at the center of the history we present here, but the context that surrounds that history is animated by the full range of human activity and is stamped by a decided focus on vibrancy, and continuity, and, yes, joy.

In this exhibition, we explore what might be called “small history” – we do not examine world events or the actions of great men and women (the Morgenthau exhibition does that). In this exhibition, rather, we focus on the history that we all take part in, the history that defines our lives. We provide in this jewel of an exhibition a slice of Jewish history that was common to so many. And we also take a look at how history is transmitted. After all, games are about much more than simple play; they are carriers of identity, fantasy, and cultural memory, and they are important vehicles for community building and togetherness. The mah jongg game was a key opportunity for Jewish women to share stories, eat and gossip together, engage in a unique and generous philanthropy, and create life-long bonds.

As new generations learn the game today, it serves as a connector to past generations and to the memories of our mothers and grandmothers. I know that as visitors take in this exhibition, many will recall profound moments in their lives, or a time in their lives, or a person long gone but somehow still near. There is no more powerful history than that which can connect us to such potent memories.

As exhibitions go, the history of Project Mah Jongg is remarkably short. Indeed, we normally mark exhibition development in glacial time -- this one took a New York Minute --- from start to finish, about six months. But in those six months, the stars aligned just so – bringing together a constellation of remarkable talent and good will that one can only dream about.

Then I went on to thank Melissa Martens, the brilliant curator of the exhibition and Abbott Miller of Pentagram, who designed it, and my Deputy, Ivy Barsky, who oversaw the entire project.  And I thanked New York Magazine for being our media partner, and Sylvia Hassenfeld for her financial support, and Ruth Unger and the National Mah Jongg League for their significant financial contribution as well as the remarkable work they have done throughout the years to preserve the game and the wonderful role it played and plays in the lives of so many.

Traces of Memory

                     Installing Traces of Memory

In the fall of 2005, I visited Krakow for the first time in nearly twenty years.  Poland occupied the chair of the International Task Force for Cooperation of Holocaust Education, Remembrance, and Research, and I was a member of the US Delegation.  My previous trips to Krakow were in connection with my work at the Office of Special Investigations of the US Department of Justice, and I spent some time in the archives of the Auschwitz State Museum (about an hour away from Krakow) researching our cases.  I even spent several nights in the camp itself, sleeping in a section of one of the administrative buildings that served as a very modest hotel.  In connection with one of these visits in December 1981, I stayed in Krakow on the last night of my visit.  This was a tumultuous time in Poland with the Solidarity movement challenging the government, and soon after I left, marshal law was declared.

The Krakow that I visited in 2005 was far different than the one I left on that cold December morning in 1981.  The city, which is one of the most beautiful in the world, had become a popular tourist destination with a modern airport and was chock full of visitors.  The city seemed cleaner and brighter, which may have been the result of the closing of the Nova Hutte steel complex which had been located just out of town and which, because of topography and climatic conditions, spewed its corrosive pollution directly onto the beautiful facades of Krakow's buildings.  During my stay, I visited a new museum in Kasimierz a part of Krakow that had been the center of Jewish life there.  The Galicia Jewish Museum, which was then only a year and a half old, made a startling impression on me.  Located in a former warehouse, it featured an exhibition by a British photojournalist named Chris Schwarz documenting the Jewish past in Poland with contemporary photographs and text by Professor Jonathan Webber.

When I saw the exhibition, I immediately thought that we should bring it to New York.  It took more than four years and, sadly, Chris Schwarz died in 2007 and never got to see his photographs hanging on the wall of our Museum in New York City.  When we opened the exhibition on Monday night, members of Chris's family were present as were Jonathan Webber, who is Chairman of the Board of the Galicia Jewish Museum, Ian Montrose, a Trustee of that Museum, and Kate Craddy, its Director.  The exhibition will be on view through August 15th.

Holocaust Commemoration

Ban Kee Moon Opening the Exhibition at the United Nations

Today is the 65th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. This day has been chosen by many countries, and by the United Nations, to commemorate victims of the Holocaust. To mark the occasion, the UN has orchestrated a series of events at the headquarters in New York. Last night, I attended the opening of a small exhibition created by Yad Vashem displaying architectural drawings of the Auschwitz-Birkenau camps. The Secretary General, himself, was present to open the exhibition, as were a number of other dignitaries.

I will admit that I believe that it is unfortunate that this date was selected for the commemoration since it could be interpreted as putting more emphasis on one kind of experience over another. Consider that by the time the gas chambers at Auschwitz were operational, the Germans had already murdered hundreds of thousands of Jews through shooting actions in the Soviet Union. Too often, the narrative of the Holocaust has ignored those whose experience had nothing to do with concentration camps.

That being said, it is extraordinary that the UN has undertaken to commemorate the Holocaust at all, and encouraging to reflect on the progress that has been made in Holocaust education and commemoration over the past decade. Ten yeas ago, forty-seven nations sent representatives (including a number of heads of state) to Stockholm to attend the Stockholm Forum. Emerging from that important meeting was the Stockholm Declaration, which set out certain principles that should guide nations in their pursuit of Holocaust commemoration and education. Acceptance of the principles of the Declaration became the basis for membership in the Task Force for Cooperation on Holocaust Education, remembrance, and Research. I was privileged to be present at the Stockholm Forum, and will always recall the tremendous impact it had on me.

The Washington Post published a disturbing article last Sunday about the questionable conduct of a suburban Washington Rabbi and Torah scribe who claims to have discovered a number of Torah scrolls that have dramatic and moving Holocaust-related stories. The article points out a number of inconsistencies that, when taken together, raise significant questions about the veracity of those stories and the conduct of the Rabbi. It is distressing to consider that someone -- especially a Rabbi -- should seek to mislead, and to profit, by spreading false stories about the Holocaust. One hopes that there is an explanation.

Kennedy Assassination

This past Sunday, November 22nd, my thoughts turned as they do each year to that day in 1963 when President Kennedy was murdered.  I was in the sixth grade and can remember clearly that I was in class when one of the teachers came in with a concerned face and reported that the president had been shot.  We left class, and I can remember watching Walter Cronkite (on one of those big televisions on a wheeled cart) as he reported in a shaken voice that the president was dead.

Thirty years later, I was appointed Executive Director of the JFK Assassination Records Review Board (ARRB).  This independent federal agency was established in the wake of the Oliver Stone film to identify, locate, and make available all records related to the Kennedy assassination.   To accomplish this challenging task, the ARRB was given a range of powerful tools.  The Review Board, composed of five members appointed by the President and confirmed by the senate, included two historians recommended by the American Historical Association and the Organization of American Historians, a librarian recommended by the Association of American Archivists, an attorney recommended by the American Bar Association, and a member at large.  The ARRB was ably led by Judge John Tunheim of Minnesota.  I was appointed as staff director and hired the staff, located and constructed our offices, and established the procedures and policies to carry out the unusual and daunting task that Congress has set out for us.    

Normally, agencies have the power to release their records to, or withhold their records from, the public. The public has recourse through the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) to challenge an agency's decision.  Moreover, certain records, like the operational records of the CIA, are exempt from FOIA.  In the case of the ARRB, the decision on access to assassination-related records (as defined by the ARRB) rested with the ARRB.

Under the Act that established the ARRB, all assassination-related records were presumed to be open, and the agencies had the burden to prove why they should continue to be classified.  The Act provided several provisions under which an assassination record, or a part of an assassination record, could continue to be withheld. These provisions included personal privacy, presidential security, and intelligence sources and methods.  The Review Board ruled on the agency requests, and the agency's only appellate recourse was to the President, who had the non-delegable  authority to overturn a decision of the Review Board.  We had the power to grant immunity and issue subpoenas. The staff all were granted the highest level of national security clearance and we had daily dealings with all of the relevant federal agencies.  We also extended our reach to state and private records, and interpreted our mandate to include the clarification of existing records.

In the end, we opened a vast collection of records at the National Archives and set release dates for those records,and portions of records,  that the ARRB agreed should continue to be withheld.  Our final report was issued in September 1998, after I had left the ARRB.

The Morgenthaus

The Morgenthaus: Henry Sr., Henry Jr., Joan, Henry III, Robert

We held our press preview this morning for our newest special exhibition, The Morgenthaus: A Legacy of Service, which opens to the public on Monday, November 16th  Visit our Exhibition Website to discover more about this remarkable family and their contribution.

Here are my remarks from this morning's event:

I welcome you this morning to the Museum and to a preview of our newest special exhibition, The Morgenthaus: A Legacy of Service.  Let me note at the outset that it is not a normal occurrence for a Museum to mount an exhibition that explores the life and family of its chairman.  Indeed, I would imagine that it is a unique.  But then, the Morgenthau family is unique – unique in its impact on history, unique in its example of service, and unique in the opportunity it offers to explore import themes and events of world, American, and Jewish history. 

Like most exhibitions and good ideas, the origins of this one are difficult to pinpoint with precision.  It really began as at least two exhibition ideas.  We had wanted to address the question of the Armenian Genocide, and we had wanted to address the question of the American response to the Holocaust.  Examining the history of the Morgenthau family has allowed us to do both and much more. 

January 1, 2010, will be almost the first day in nearly a century that a Morgenthau has not gotten up, shaken off sleep, knotted his tie, and set off to do the people’s work.  This nearly unbroken, century-long, chain of public service reveals much about this family, and our exhibition shows how its individual members reacted at times of crisis to find within themselves deep reservoirs of strength and commitment to the public good.  Indeed, one historian comments that there may well have been something in the Morgenthau DNA that equipped them to respond the way they did. 

Now I don’t know much about DNA, but I do something about the DA, the Honorable Robert M. Morgenthau, who is with us this morning.  Normally one might think that there could be significant risk for a Museum director to prepare an exhibition about his boss’s family and his boss.  One could worry that a mistake could mean their job, and when the boss is the DA, one could be thinking handcuffs and jail time.  Not with Bob Morgenthau, whose absolute fidelity to the purest principles of independence and fairness extends to his service to this Museum. Work on this exhibition began a long time ago, long before we knew that the Boss would not be running for his tenth term. He and his siblings were extremely generous with their memories and their possessions, which have provided rich material for this exhibition.

This morning is the first time Bob Morgenthau will have a chance to see the exhibition, and we hope that he, like you, will find it balanced and accurate and educational and enriching. While, I am certain that he will likely learn no new facts about himself or his family, he will see important artifacts for the first time and will see the lives of his grandfather and father, and indeed his own career, placed in a context that draws from them a fascinating, profound, and powerful story of legacy and service.

Kristallnacht and the Return of a Stolen Bible

Yesterday, we hosted an event that saw the return of a 16th century bible to the Jewish community of Vienna, from which it was looted 71 years ago on Kristallnacht. Here are my introductory remarks at the ceremony:

I want to welcome you to the Museum and to this important event that marks the return of a priceless book to its rightful owners after more than seven decades. This is not the first such return of stolen property that has taken place at the Museum, and we are pleased to be host today.  We believe that, as an institution dedicated to Memory and Hope and to continuity and heritage, there could be no better place.

It is appropriate, I believe, that we recall what took place in Germany and Austria, seventy-one years ago today, on November 9 and 10, 1938.  We recall the hundreds of synagogues plundered and burned, the thousands of shops, businesses, and homes looted, their windows smashed, giving a name to this horrific night, -- Kristallnacht -- “Night of Broken Glass.”  We recall those who were forced to leave their homes and their possessions.  We recall those who were, imprisoned, beaten, driven to suicide, and murdered. And we recall the darkest history for which Kristallnacht served as portent.

We are grateful to Professor Ori Soltes for researching the provenance of the Bible that is being returned today.  Details of his research can be found in your press kits. 

The Bible being returned is more than the paper, ink and binding, or the words and frontispiece image that comprise its contents. It is a powerful symbol. 

It is a symbol of the centuries-long connection between the Jewish people and its sense of God; 

It is a symbol in the long and complex history of Jewish-Christian relations; consider that it was printed in the Ghetto in Venice at the beginning of the 16th Century.

It is a symbol of the larger love of books on the part of Jews as a People of the Book. 

It is a symbol of the immense theft of art and cultural property that was an integral part of Holocaust.  We must always remember that the Holocaust was not only the greatest murder of all time, but it was also the greatest theft.

And finally this Bible is a symbol of continuity of Jewish life and a sign that, even after more than a half century, that there can be some small measure of justice. 

The Berlin Wall: Twenty Years

Fragment of the Berlin Wall

Over the weekend, I attended a reunion of Americans (Army, State Department, civilians) who were present in Berlin when the wall fell twenty years ago.  I saw many old friends and colleague, and my memories flew back to that most exciting and surreal night.  I had a front-row seat at one of the most remarkable events in modern history.  The fall of the wall and the periods both preceding and
following it changed the world.

The following is an excerpt from the commencement speech I delivered last July at Touro College in Berlin: 

My family joined me in Berlin shortly after New Years, arriving at the very beginning of 1989.   In the context of the wide sweep of European history, with the exception, perhaps, of 1848, did a single year see such a confluence of potentially history changing events as occurred in 1989.  The year did not start happily in Berlin.  In January, Erich Honecker boasted that the Wall would still be standing in “50 or even in 100 years.”  On February 6, Chris Gueffroy, a 20-year-old East German, was shot dead as he tried to cross the Wall.  On the same day, the communist regime in Warsaw began talks with the Solidarity trade union and its leader Lech Walesa.   Also in February, the Soviets pulled their last troops out of Afghanistan.  In March, Winfried Freudenberg fell from the sky into a garden in Zehlendorf as he was attempting an escape by hot air balloon from East Berlin.

In April 1989, Solidarity gained legal standing in Poland, and students in China marched in Tiananmen Square.  By May, there were demonstrations in more than 400 cities in China, until martial law was imposed.   In June, the Ayatollah Khomeini died, marking the end of the beginning of the Islamic revolution.  One wonders today whether we may be witnessing the beginning of its end.

During the summer of 1989, East Germans, free to travel within the East bloc, flocked to Hungary where they then crossed into Austria and gathered in the compounds of the West German Embassies in Prague and Budapest.   Tens of thousands left.  In September, the Hungarians let 14,000 East Germans pass through in a single week. 

During the autumn of 1989, large crowds demonstrated in Leipzig and other cities.  In the midst of all of this, the East German government held a celebration to mark the 40th anniversary of the foundation of the German Democratic Republic.  The heads of state from the East bloc countries attended;  Ceaucescu and Honecker, of course.  Within months, one would be dead by firing squad and the other out of office.

In early November, my wife and children had returned to the States for a visit, where I was to join them for the Thanksgiving holiday.  With no family obligations, I worked late on the evening of November 9th, and happened to catch Guenther Schabowski’s now-famous news conference on the car radio as I drove home from work.  I will confess to you that I had no idea of its far-reaching significance as I made my way through the streets of Zehlendorf.  Of course, neither did Schabowski or anyone else for that matter.  When I arrived home, I turned on CNN and watched as the incredible scenes unfolded.   Although my home in Grunewald was too far away for me to actually watch the streams of Trabis that poured into West Berlin, the atmosphere was electric. 

The next day, I took Bus 29 all the way down the Kudamm and witnessed the throngs of people.  There were huge lines surrounding all of West Berlin’s banks, which extended their hours to disburse the 100 mark--Begrussungsgeld--that each East German citizen was eligible to receive.  Food markets were selling bananas at an alarming rate, and along the Wall itself, there were surreal scenes that are now familiar even iconic pictures.

That weekend, as the world watched the historic events on television, I was present as the section of the Wall by Potsdamer Platz was removed by a crane, and Mayor Momper with his red scarf marched across.  The air was filled with the irregular cadence of chisels striking concrete around the city as the Wall began to fall victim to individual demolition efforts and souvenir collecting.