“Mayor Koch last night took on the ghost of President Franklin D. Roosevelt,” an item in the New York Daily News in 1988 began, which probably surprised no one, since Ed Koch had spent a lifetime taking on everybody who deserved to be taken on, whether they were alive or dead. Indeed, his willingness to vigorously battle for what he believed, and let the chips fall where they may, was precisely what endeared Koch—who died February 1—to so many people across the political spectrum.
As a historian who has written about President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s response to the Holocaust, what intrigued me about that 1988 speech was the unique way in which the New York City mayor framed his criticism of FDR: “I will never forgive him for closing the doors to Jews who could have left Germany. Never will I forgive him. If you believe in purgatory—and I don’t even know what it is—that’s where he is, for that sin.”
In the years to follow, as Mayor Koch and I became friends and then coauthors, I had the opportunity to speak with him about that “purgatory” remark. And when a reporter from Italian National Television who was scheduled to interview Koch on the 65th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz asked me what topics I thought he should raise, I suggested bringing up the purgatory issue.
“I think it’s a Catholic expression,” Koch told him. “I’m not Catholic, I’m Jewish. I don’t think Jews have purgatory. I’m not really sure. I’m not religious myself, although I believe in G‑d. But ‘purgatory’ [means] that you have an opportunity to deal with your sinful life and ultimately get to Heaven . . . you have to spend a time in purgatory, winning the right to enter Heaven.”
President Roosevelt “did many, many good things,” Koch emphasized, recalling FDR’s role in “saving the United States from the Depression” and leading America against Hitler in World War II. But FDR “also had an opportunity to save Jews before World War II,” and his failure to do so is what landed him in purgatory, Koch explained. He cited Roosevelt’s decision to turn away the refugee ship St. Louis; his refusal to instruct the State Department to permit Jewish immigration up to the maximum allowed by law (the quotas were woefully under-filled); and the sham Evian Conference of 1938, which the Roosevelt administration convened to give the impression of concern for the Jewish refugees without actually doing anything to aid them.
For me, however, perhaps the most significant part of the interview was Koch’s analysis of anti-Semitism in the U.S. in the 1930s and 1940s. Given the public mood in those days, was it politically possible for FDR to have done much for the Jews? Scholars looking at this issue tend to rely on newspaper reports, public opinion polls about prejudice, and statistics about the size of anti-Semitic organizations. But an eyewitness account can be very revealing. And Koch, having grown up in hardscrabble neighborhoods in Newark and Brooklyn in the 1930s and 1940s, had much to say about the subject.
“Yes, there was a lot of anti-Semitism in America in those years, but that is no excuse for Roosevelt’s inaction, which was vile,” Koch asserted. “A leader has to lead. He has to try to change minds.”
What about claims that helping the Jews would have undermined Roosevelt’s ability to convince the public to fight Hitler? “I don’t accept that,” Koch said. “I believe that the American public could have accepted saving Jews.” Koch wasn’t a sociologist. He just knew what he had experienced among the people he met in the neighborhoods where he lived and worked. Some were bigots, but most weren’t.
Koch wasn’t just speculating when he expressed his faith in the basic decency of most Americans. In April 1944—while the Holocaust still raged, and before the deportations of Hungarian Jews began—the White House quietly commissioned a Gallup poll on the subject. It asked the public about offering “temporary protection” to Jews fleeing Hitler. The “anti-Semitic” American public supported the idea by a margin of 70 percent to 23 percent. Despite that overwhelming public sentiment, President Roosevelt agreed to create just one refugee camp—in upstate New York, where 982 refugees were brought in the summer of 1944.
In a world of cynics and naysayers, where too many people almost instinctively assume the worst of their fellow citizens, our generation was fortunate to have Ed Koch, whose many contributions as a public servant included reminding us of the abundant goodness to be found, sometimes in unexpected places, both in those days and in our own time. (JNS.org) v
Dr. Rafael Medoff is founding director of The David S. Wyman Institute for Holocaust Studies.