How these Jewish genealogists are repairing Nazi ‘dirty deeds'
It's rare that books the Nazis stole from Jews during World War II end up with their original owners. There aren't many actual Holocaust survivors alive anymore.
'This is really special in 2025 to be able to do this,' said Karen Franklin, director of outreach at JewishGen and director of family services at the Leo Baeck Institute, both in New York.
JewishGen is a website for Jews and others seeking out their ancestors, similar to FamilySearch or Ancestry. It started as a bulletin board in the 1990s before the internet. The Baeck Institute is a research library and archive focused on the history of German-speaking Jews.
Franklin and Avraham Groll, vice president and executive director of JewishGen at the Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York, were in Salt Lake City last weekend for the RootsTech family history and technology conference, which drew 20,000 participants.
While in Utah, Franklin and Groll met with leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, the Family History Museum, FamilySearch and Ancestry to share the projects they're working on. Franklin's and Groll's passion for their work was evident in the meetings.
Franklin also sat down for an interview as part of the Deseret News' 'Yellow Couch' series.
'For us, doing our research is not just about finding names on a page or on a tree but really recreating a line to the past that in many cases was severed during the Holocaust,' said Franklin, a world-renowned expert on German Jewish genealogy.
'This is for us a sacred task, and also a very satisfying and rewarding one.'
That sense of satisfaction and reward came through with the return of the book to the 103-year-old Holocaust survivor. The genealogist who tracked her down had her great nephew present the book to her. Up to then, she had shared little with her family about her experiences.
'They did not know much,' Franklin said. 'At that moment when she received the book from her great nephew, she told the family stories that they had never heard before, that they had never known. And now she has opened up after all these years.'
The Looted Books Projects started about 30 years ago in Nuremberg, Germany, where 10,000 books were found in the library of Julius Streicher, a notorious Nazi who founded and published the virulently antisemitic newspaper Der Stürmer. Nazis mostly looted the books from Jewish homes. Streicher was convicted of war crimes and hanged in 1946.
About 2,000 books contained the name of the original owners and half of them were returned to their families.
More recently, genealogists at JewishGen and the Baeck Institute volunteered to help search for the descendants of the book owners. They've managed to return more than 100 books in the past few months. Their work helps correct an injustice.
'When they heard about this project, I believe they were all inspired by a concept called tikkun olam — to repair the world. They all wanted to repair the world in their little way," Franklin said. 'This is really a wonderful way to use genealogy research in really helping others.'
It's not just Jewish genealogists volunteering with the project. Franklin spoke last year at a conference where afterward an evangelical Christian college student asked how she could get involved. She became an intern for the project.
'That was so meaningful because it showed to me the universality of the desire, that it's not just within our own community, but others understand respect and feel the joy in participating,' Franklin said.
Just last month, Amos Guiora, a University of Utah law professor, received four books that belonged to his grandfather, Shlomo Natan Goldberg, who died at Auschwitz in 1944. The leather-bound volumes that contain explanations and interpretations of Jewish law found in the Talmud were embossed with his grandfather's name in Hebrew.
Guiora, whose Hungarian parents survived the Holocaust but never talked about it, knows little of his grandfather and has never seen his picture. Receiving a tangible link to his ancestors left him overwhelmed and speechless.
Franklin doesn't have to look too far to understand how a book recipient feels because she is the recipient of one herself. Several years ago in Nuremberg she received an Alfred Lord Tennyson book in German that belonged to a cousin.
'It was a wonderful feeling,' she said.
But Franklin adds that receiving a book often raises as many questions as it answers. What was my ancestor like? What were her interests? How did he get this book? How did it get from my ancestor's hands to Streicher's library? What was its journey? Who took it? How did it get saved?
The genealogists recently came across a book with an inscription written by a young boy: This prayer book is 200 years old and sometimes I think about what its journey was for the last 200 years and where will it be 100 years from now.
'And 100 years from now, it was returned to his son in 2025,' Franklin said.
Why the Streicher kept books belonging to Jews isn't clear, especially considering the Nazi campaign in the 1930s to burn books that opposed Nazism and later kill all the Jews in Europe.
'In a way, they're spoils of war, proof of the dirty deeds that they did,' Franklin said, adding there is story that the Nazis wanted to build a museum of the extinct race to show what they accomplished
'How ironic it is that we have these books now as testimony to their dirty deeds and to the destruction that they wrought and that we can return them now.'
Franklin it's not only a rewarding project but an 'in your face' to those who sought to wipe out Jewish culture and heritage.
'To return these books is a way of defeating those who not only tried to take away lives but also to take away history and connection,' she said. 'So we're reversing that with the ability to restore all of these things to the descendants of those who perished.'
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


UPI
2 hours ago
- UPI
Japanese tea ceremony master Sen Genshitsu dies at 102
Japanese tea ceremony grand master Sen Genshitsu died at the age of 102. File Photo by Wallace Woon/EPA Aug. 14 (UPI) -- A grand master of Ursanke, a Japanese tea ceremony school, Sen Genshitsu died on Thursday. He was 102 years old. Genshitsu became the grand master in 1964 and received the Japanese Order of Culture in 1997 for his modernization of the traditional tea ceremony. His philosophy was "peacefulness through a bowl of tea" which he shared as he traveled overseas to promote Japanese culture at universities across the world. Genshitsu was recruited into the Japanese Navy during World War II to be a kamikaze pilot. He passed on the title of grandmaster to his son in 2002. Notable deaths of 2025 Astronaut Jim Lovell, commander of the ill-fated Apollo 13 mission to the moon, died August 8, 2025, in Illinois, his family announced. He was 97. Photo by Kevin Dietsch/UPI | License Photo


National Geographic
4 hours ago
- National Geographic
World War II treasure hunters love this rugged Greek island
Top collectors on the island have amassed hundreds of thousands of artifacts — and there are still more being found. Stelios Tripalitakis holds an original rifle used during the Battle of Crete, part of his extensive collection dedicated to preserving the island's wartime history and resistance. Photograph by Demetrios Ioannou The metal helmet held by Stelios Tripalitakis is heavy, with a small hole on one side and a jagged gash on the other, likely caused by a bullet. It probably belonged to a German soldier, Lieutenant Schimkat, who fought and died in the Battle of Crete during WWII. The hole in the helmet, Tripalitakis surmises, was Schimkat's fatal wound. 'I bought this helmet from an elderly man in Daratsos village, about a kilometer from here,' recalls Tripalitakis, sitting in his living room in a village in the northwest of Crete, Greece's largest island. Crete is a rugged place, with a number of historic towns, ancient sites, and scenic beaches. While it doesn't attract the masses like the nearby Cyclades, Crete gets a fair amount of tourists. Not all who come are here for a beach vacation or even ancient Greece, though. It's something more recent that drives them to this island and into the living room of Tripalitakis. Crete is brimming with World War II treasures. Tripalitakis is just one of dozens of artifact hunters, part of a not-so-quiet subculture of amateur historians and military memorabilia enthusiasts searching for and preserving remnants of the pivotal 1941 Battle of Crete. So numerous are the remnants from this war-changing event that Tripalitakis has a collection of more than 100,000 artifacts—and it's still growing. He lives with his family of four in Galatas, a small village. The Battle of Crete began on May 20, and the Galatas area was one of its main battlefields. Tripalitakis started learning about it at just nine years old, and his collecting started at 16. Tripalitakis holds a helmet he believes once belonged to Lieutenant Schimkat, pointing out the bullet exit hole that marks its violent history. Photograph by Demetrios Ioannou He managed to identify the helmet through two original photographs, both showing the makeshift grave of the German lieutenant. 'Both photos capture the helmet from the same angle, clearly showing the bullet entry hole, which is identical in size and position to the helmet I have,' he explains. One photo belongs to Dimitris Skartsilakis, a researcher and collector from Rethimno, a nearby city. He owns more than 10,000 photographs, many depicting grim scenes, ranging from local executions and battlefield casualties to soldiers' graves. The other is from a German paratrooper's album of the 3rd Parachute Regiment stationed in the Galatas area. 'The lieutenant's grave is visible with the same helmet, and the name on the cross is also clearly seen,' says Tripalitakis. When he searched the German archives, he found that Schimkat was killed on May 22 in Galatas, shot in the head. A generational pursuit Tripalitakis' front yard resembles a WWII vehicle cemetery, with several pieces of rusted metal scattered on the ground. But it's the room on the first floor of his house where history truly overflows. The 42-year-old has transformed his former living room into what may be the world's most densely packed private WWII museum, showcasing relics ranging from rifles and grenades to rare photographs and uniforms. Tripalitakis is not alone. Collectors in Crete become interested in this history from a very young age and many who had lived during the German occupation were still alive in the 1990s. 'My family runs a pastry shop in Rethimno, and I used to hear countless war stories from our customers, many of whom were around 70 years old at the time,' fellow collector Skartsilakis, now 42, says. 'Both of my grandmothers also shared stories from those years. That's how I first became interested in all this.' Tripalitakis talks about his artifacts with such passion, and so fast, it's as if he's trying to share as much as possible before time runs out. He's had to practice talking fast. He collaborates with at least six travel agencies in Chania that run daily Battle of Crete tours, all of which include a 'strictly one-hour visit' to his museum. Mortar rounds, grenades, and ammunition, recovered by Tripalitakis during more than 25 years of searching the island for wartime remnants. Photograph by Demetrios Ioannou A U.S. Army medical stretcher, used during WWII, now preserved as part of Tripalitakis' collection. Photograph by Demetrios Ioannou According to Yannis Skalidakis, historian and professor at the University of Crete, the Battle of Crete played an extraordinary role in WWII. It was the first—and last—large-scale battle in which the attack was carried out entirely from the air using paratroopers. And Crete "was essentially the only free territory left in Europe,' he explains. Due to the strong local resistance, however, the elite German unit suffered heavy losses, which prevented them from attempting further airborne operations during the war. The relentless opposition by the Cretans was another harbinger. 'The resistance of the Cretan people marked the beginning of armed civilian resistance across Europe against Nazism. The citizens of Crete—ordinary people—were the first to fight back, alongside the Greek and British armies," notes Skalidakis, author of a book on German-occupied Crete. (There is also the disputed theory that the Germans getting bogged down in Crete contributed to the delay of the German invasion of the Soviet Union—a delay which cost them dearly.) A uniquely documented battle Collectors like Tripalitakis can be found across the island, with the Chania region holding the largest share. But you would be mistaken to think this is a mere hobby. 'In reality,' asserts Skartsilakis, who is currently collaborating with the Historical Museum of Crete for a temporary exhibition, 'if it weren't for us, much of this material would have ended up as scrap and been lost forever.' Since Tripalitakis started collecting in 1999 he estimates he's spent more than €100,000 on artifacts, and nearly €50,000, maybe even more, just on fuel. 'I work several jobs and invest everything into this," he admits. Guided by history books, local testimonies, and intuition, Tripalitakis has scoured the island's battle sites by land and sea multiple times. Most of the collectors also scan the web for important findings. That's because Crete might be the most photographed battle of the war, the historian Skalidakis contends. 'Almost all the Germans had cameras with them and captured many moments of the battle, both before and after it, resulting in an extremely rich visual archive that doesn't exist for other battles.' The regime did it for potential propaganda purposes. The collector Skartsilakis has used photographs to find objects. 'It's sometimes astonishing to see that, even after 80 years, shell casings from the battle are still lying on a wall where I have a photo of soldiers positioned during the battle,' he shares. Tripalitakis examines a selection of original wartime photographs from his collection —some costing him around 300 euros. Underneath are displayed personal items such as buttons and belt buckles found in the islands' battlefields. Photograph by Demetrios Ioannou It should come as no surprise, then, that these photographs can fetch lofty sums. 'I've bought a single photograph on eBay for €300. Especially the ones showing paratroopers with full gear in the midst of battle are extremely expensive,' Tripalitakis shares. 'A paratrooper's full photo album, can go for as much as €5,000 and may contain 150–200 photographs.' Under Greek law, items from 1453 and earlier are considered antiquities and are automatically state property. Anything found that dates after 1453—the fall of Constantinople to the Ottomans and the end of the Byzantine Empire—is not considered ancient and can be legally owned as collectibles. Weaponry and ammunition that are still functional must be officially registered with the Greek police. Small arms require a permit and must be deactivated. 'I handle that myself,' Tripalitakis says. 'I'm a reserve officer in the special forces, in the paratroopers, but I knew how to handle explosives like these long before the army." In total, Tripalitakis owns around 200 weapons, though not all of them are complete. Other items include uniforms, gas masks, field telephones, mess tins, motorcycle goggles, ID tags, cutlery sets, first aid kits, cooking pots, buttons, pocket watches, and unit insignia. Much like Schimkat's helmet, each item in a collection carries its own life story. 'We have found many personal belongings of soldiers, such as wedding rings with engraved initials, some of which we've traced back to their owners,' says Skartsilakis, who recently made a particularly rare discovery. 'I found three wooden crosses from graves at the Battle of Galatas. A local had them to support the roof of his stable.' From screws to barrels the entire island is dotted with repurposed WWII relics. Some became flower pots or water troughs. 'I've seen a raki still made from a German fuel barrel," Skalidakis laughs. Photograph by Demetrios Ioannou But don't mistake the ways they've been repurposed to mean they aren't valued. After all, many in Crete have family lore about ancestors who fought and died to stop the Nazis. 'You should know,' Tripalitakis concludes, 'that everyone has objects like these in their homes. Some people consider them family heirlooms and don't want to part with them.' Given the island's riches, Tripalitakis's former living room isn't the only stop for aficionados. One of the first private collections to open to the public was the War Museum Askifou at Sfakia, created by collector Georgios Hatzidakis and now maintained by his son Andreas. 'My father started this when he was 16, a few years after the war ended, in 1946,' says Andreas, who inherited the collection after his dad passed away in 2007. 'He was a young boy during the war. The Germans killed one of his sisters, and my grandfather was in the resistance,' he says. Today, they own thousands of artifacts and exhibit them at their home at Askifou village, which is open to visitors daily. Andreas continues the tradition of searching for relics with his younger son, who is now the same age his father was when he started the collection. 'I am trying to teach him the history of our place', he says. 'It's important for the older generations to remember, and for the younger ones to learn'.

Epoch Times
4 hours ago
- Epoch Times
The ‘Trad Wife' Debate Misses the Point
As many people who follow my journey know, I had children later in life. By the time I became a mother, my life was already shaped in certain ways. I was more the breadwinner in our family—or at least the public face of the enterprise my husband and I have worked hard to build together. Now, with a return to 'traditional values' sweeping parts of the country, I see criticism coming from both directions. On the left, the message is often: 'Don't just have children—do something more with your life!' Motherhood is portrayed as too small, too limiting, even oppressive. On the right, it's 'Stay home, don't work, and let your husband provide.' The recent New York Times piece on Ballerina Farm's founder, Hannah Neeleman, written by Megan Agnew, tried to cast her as an oppressed woman whose life couldn't possibly be as wonderful as it appears. Yet more traditional or conservative voices also criticize her—for working too much, for not being 'at home' enough. The irony is that none of this is truly traditional. The image of the man leaving for ten hours a day while the woman stays home with the children really emerged in factory culture in the early 1900s. Before that, industry was in the home. Husbands and wives worked together as blacksmiths, shoemakers, tailors, bakers—running family enterprises where the children were underfoot, learning the trade as they grew. For only a short fraction of American history—mainly the post–World War II decades into the early 1970s—was it considered 'normal' for a man to go off to work while his wife stayed home with the children full-time. That model was largely a product of economic prosperity, suburban expansion, and postwar advertising—not a timeless tradition. Before and after that brief window, families across America worked together in agriculture, trades, and small businesses. We shouldn't mistake nostalgia for accuracy, or imagine that the 1950s image of 'traditional' is the only—or even the best—path forward. In reality, when men and women both contribute to a home enterprise, they bring unique strengths that serve not just the family's income but its entire way of life. Children in these environments learn enterprise, problem-solving, negotiation, decision-making, and how to navigate complex situations long before they ever fill out a résumé. In that way, Hannah's work is actually closer to tradition than many critics realize. At Ballerina Farm, she and her husband run multiple enterprises—some in the home, some outside—but all connected, with the family working together. That's also my reality. If you visit The Barn restaurant at Sovereignty Ranch, my kids might burst through the door, hair windblown, sticks and dirt clinging to them. They'll run to give me a hug or ask for pancakes, maybe beg for a popsicle from the farm store, and then run back into the wild of the farm. We've also built a small homeschool on the ranch, where a teacher comes for three hours each morning to focus on reading, writing, and math. The rest of their education comes from the farm, the restaurant, and our other enterprises. They do everything from helping with newborn calves to brainstorming Instagram video ideas. They often ask how much something costs, how much we'll sell it for, whether that's a lot of money, how much the mortgage is, or how many products we need to sell to make a car payment. In many ways, these questions—and the real-world math, economics, and decision-making they lead to—are more valuable than much of what children learn in conventional classrooms. This model may not be perfect, but it is far better than my life in California—driving an hour and twenty minutes each way, working more than eight hours, then commuting another three, and leaving them with others or dragging them along just to spend time together. We need to remember what 'traditional' really was—and what it still can be. We need more small, home-based enterprises where kids are involved and learn by doing. My children set up tables for big party reservations, wipe down tables, bus dishes, put stickers on hot sauce bottles, help bottle vinegar—and as they get older, their responsibilities will grow, and they'll be intimately connected to the work that sustains our family. I won't pretend I never feel guilt about working so much or wishing life was different. But I am grateful that God, in His grace, blessed us with children later in life and allowed us to weave them into our daily work, rather than relegating them to schools, babysitters, or screens. Maybe my home doesn't fit a perfect 'traditional' mold. But in the truest sense—family working together, children learning responsibility, life lived with purpose—it's as traditional as it gets.