In The Garden Of Beasts Part 19

Suddenly the farm at Round Hill was not so much a place of rest and peace as one of melancholy. Dodd's sorrow and loneliness took a toll on his already fragile health, but still he pressed on and gave lectures around the country, in Texas, Kansas, Wisconsin, Illinois, Maryland, and Ohio, always reprising the same themes-that Hitler and n.a.z.ism posed a great risk to the world, that a European war was inevitable, and that once war began the United States would find it impossible to remain aloof. One lecture drew an audience of seven thousand people. In a June 10, 1938, speech in Boston, at the Harvard Club-that den of privilege-Dodd talked of Hitler's hatred of Jews and warned that his true intent was "to kill them all."

Five months later, on November 9 and 10, came Kristallnacht, the n.a.z.i pogrom that convulsed Germany and at last drove Roosevelt to issue a public condemnation. He told reporters he "could scarcely believe that such a thing could occur in twentieth century civilization."

On November 30, Sigrid Schultz wrote to Dodd from Berlin. "My hunch is that you have lots of chances to say or think 'didn't I say so beforehand?' Not that it is such a great consolation to have been right when the world seems divided between ruthless Vandals and decent people unable to cope with them. We were witnesses when much of the wrecking and looting occurred and yet there are times when you wonder whether what you actually saw was really true-there is a nightmarish quality around the place, even surpa.s.sing the oppressiveness of June 30."

A STRANGE EPISODE SIDETRACKED DODD. On December 5, 1938, as he was driving to a speaking engagement in McKinney, Virginia, his car struck a four-year-old black girl named Gloria Grimes. The impact caused significant injury, including an apparent concussion. Dodd did not stop. "It was not my fault," he later explained to a reporter. "The youngster ran into the path of my automobile about thirty feet ahead. I put on the brakes, turned the car and drove on because I thought the child had escaped." He made things worse by seeming to be insensitive when, in a letter to the girl's mother, he added, "Besides, I did not want the newspapers all over the country to publish a story about the accident. You know how newspapers love to exaggerate things of this sort."

He was indicted, but on the day his trial was to begin, March 2, 1939, he changed his plea to guilty. His friend, Judge Moore, sat beside him, as did Martha. The court fined him $250 but did not sentence him to jail, citing his poor health and the fact he had paid $1,100 in medical costs for the child, who by now was, reportedly, nearly recovered. He lost his driving privileges and his right to vote, an especially poignant loss for so ardent a believer in democracy.

Shattered by the accident, disillusioned by his experience as amba.s.sador, and worn down by declining health, Dodd retreated to his farm. His health worsened. He was diagnosed as suffering from a neurological syndrome called bulbar palsy, a slow, progressive paralysis of the muscles of the throat. In July 1939 he was admitted to Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City for minor abdominal surgery, but before the operation took place he contracted bronchial pneumonia, a frequent complication of bulbar palsy. He became gravely ill. As he lay near death, he was taunted from afar by the n.a.z.is.

A front-page article in Goebbels's newspaper Der Angriff Der Angriff said Dodd was in a "Jewish clinic." The headline stated: "End of notorious anti-German agitator Dodd." said Dodd was in a "Jewish clinic." The headline stated: "End of notorious anti-German agitator Dodd."

The writer spat a puerile brand of malice typical of Der Angriff Der Angriff. "The 70-year-old man who was one of the strangest diplomats who ever existed is now back among those whom he served for 20 years-the activist war-mongering Jews." The article called Dodd a "small, dry, nervous, pedantic man...whose appearance at diplomatic and social functions inevitably called forth yawning boredom."

It took note of Dodd's campaign to warn of Hitler's ambitions. "After returning to the United States, Dodd expressed himself in the most irresponsible and shameless fas.h.i.+on over the German Reich, whose officials had for four years, with almost superhuman generosity, overlooked his and his family's scandalous affairs, faux pas and political indiscretions."

Dodd emerged from the hospital and retired to his farm, where he continued to nurture the hope that he would have time to finish the remaining volumes of his Old South Old South. The governor of Virginia restored his right to vote, explaining that at the time of the accident Dodd was "ill and not entirely responsible."

In September 1939, Hitler's armies invaded Poland and sparked war in Europe. On September 18, Dodd wrote to Roosevelt that it could have been avoided if "the democracies in Europe" had simply acted together to stop Hitler, as he always had urged. "If they had co-operated," Dodd wrote, "they would have succeeded. Now it is too late."

By fall, Dodd was confined to bed, able to communicate only with a pad and pencil. He endured this condition for several more months, until early February 1940, when he suffered another round of pneumonia. He died in his bed at his farm on February 9, 1940, at 3:10 p.m., with Martha and Bill Jr. at his side, his life work-his Old South Old South-anything but finished. He was buried two days later on the farm, with Carl Sandburg serving as an honorary pallbearer.

Five years later, during the final a.s.sault on Berlin, a Russian sh.e.l.l scored a direct hit on a stable at the western end of the Tiergarten. The adjacent Kurfurstendamm, once one of Berlin's prime shopping and entertainment streets, now became a stage for the utterly macabre-horses, those happiest creatures of n.a.z.i Germany, tearing wildly down the street with manes and tales aflame.

HOW DODD'S COUNTRYMEN JUDGED his career as amba.s.sador seemed to depend in large part on which side of the Atlantic they happened to be standing. his career as amba.s.sador seemed to depend in large part on which side of the Atlantic they happened to be standing.

To the isolationists, he was needlessly provocative; to his opponents in the State Department, he was a maverick who complained too much and failed to uphold the standards of the Pretty Good Club. Roosevelt, in a letter to Bill Jr., was maddeningly noncommittal. "Knowing his pa.s.sion for historical truth and his rare ability to illuminate the meanings of history," Roosevelt wrote, "his pa.s.sing is a real loss to the nation."

To those who knew Dodd in Berlin and who witnessed firsthand the oppression and terror of Hitler's government, he would always be a hero. Sigrid Schultz called Dodd "the best amba.s.sador we had in Germany" and revered his willingness to stand up for American ideals even against the opposition of his own government. She wrote: "Was.h.i.+ngton failed to give him the support due an amba.s.sador in n.a.z.i Germany, partly because too many of the men in the State Department were pa.s.sionately fond of the Germans and because too many of the more influential businessmen of our country believed that one 'could do business with Hitler.'" Rabbi Wise wrote in his memoir, Challenging Years Challenging Years, "Dodd was years ahead of the State Department in his grasp of the political as well as of the moral implications of Hitlerism and paid the penalty of such understanding by being virtually removed from office for having the decency and the courage alone among amba.s.sadors to decline to attend the annual Nuremberg celebration, which was a glorification of Hitler."

Late in life even Messersmith applauded Dodd's clarity of vision. "I often think that there were very few men who realized what was happening in Germany more thoroughly than he did, and certainly there were very few men who realized the implications for the rest of Europe and for us and for the whole world of what was happening in the country more than he did."

The highest praise came from Thomas Wolfe, who during a visit to Germany in the spring of 1935 engaged in a brief affair with Martha. He wrote to his editor, Maxwell Perkins, that Amba.s.sador Dodd had helped conjure in him "a renewed pride and faith in America and a belief that somehow our great future still remains." The Dodds' house at Tiergartenstra.s.se 27a, he told Perkins, "has been a free and fearless harbor for people of all opinions, and people who live and walk in terror have been able to draw their breath there without fear, and to speak their minds. This I know to be true, and further, the dry, plain, homely unconcern with which the Amba.s.sador observes all the pomp and glitter and decorations and the tramp of marching men would do your heart good to see."

Dodd's successor was Hugh Wilson, a diplomat of the old-fas.h.i.+oned mode that Dodd long had railed against. It was Wilson, in fact, who had first described the foreign service as "a pretty good club." Wilson's maxim, coined by Talleyrand before him, was not exactly stirring: "Above all, not too much zeal." As amba.s.sador, Wilson sought to emphasize the positive aspects of n.a.z.i Germany and carried on a one-man campaign of appeas.e.m.e.nt. He promised Germany's new foreign minister, Joachim von Ribbentrop, that if war began in Europe he would do all he could to keep America out. Wilson accused the American press of being "Jewish controlled" and of singing a "hymn of hate while efforts are made over here to build a better future." He praised Hitler as "the man who has pulled his people from moral and economic despair into the state of pride and evident prosperity they now enjoyed." He particularly admired the n.a.z.i "Strength through Joy" program, which provided all German workers with no-expense vacations and other entertainments. Wilson saw it as a powerful tool for helping Germany resist communist inroads and suppressing workers' demands for higher wages-money that workers would squander on "idiotic things as a rule." He saw this approach as one that "is going to be beneficial to the world at large."

William Bullitt, in a letter from Paris dated December 7, 1937, praised Roosevelt for choosing Wilson, stating, "I do think that the chances for peace in Europe are increased definitely by your appointment of Hugh to Berlin, and I thank you profoundly."

In the end, of course, neither Dodd's nor Wilson's approach mattered very much. As. .h.i.tler consolidated his power and cowed his public, only some extreme gesture of American disapproval could have had any effect, perhaps the "forcible intervention" suggested by George Messersmith in September 1933. Such an act, however, would have been politically unthinkable with America succ.u.mbing more and more to the fantasy that it could avoid involvement in the squabbles of Europe. "But history," wrote Dodd's friend Claude Bowers, amba.s.sador to Spain and later Chile, "will record that in a period when the forces of tyranny were mobilizing for the extermination of liberty and democracy everywhere, when a mistaken policy of 'appeas.e.m.e.nt' was stocking the a.r.s.enals of despotism, and when in many high social, and some political, circles, fascism was a fad and democracy anathema, he stood foursquare for our democratic way of life, fought the good fight and kept the faith, and when death touched him his flag was flying still."

And indeed one has to wonder: For Goebbels's Der Angriff Der Angriff to attack Dodd as he lay prostrate in a hospital bed, was he really so ineffectual as his enemies believed? In the end, Dodd proved to be exactly what Roosevelt had wanted, a lone beacon of American freedom and hope in a land of gathering darkness. to attack Dodd as he lay prostrate in a hospital bed, was he really so ineffectual as his enemies believed? In the end, Dodd proved to be exactly what Roosevelt had wanted, a lone beacon of American freedom and hope in a land of gathering darkness.

EPILOGUE.

The Queer Bird in Exile

The Tiergarten after the Russian offensive, with the Reichstag building in the background ( (photo credit epl.1) Martha and Alfred Stern lived in an apartment on Central Park West in New York City and owned an estate in Ridgefield, Connecticut. In 1939 she published a memoir ent.i.tled Through Emba.s.sy Eyes Through Emba.s.sy Eyes. Germany promptly banned the book, no surprise given some of Martha's observations about the regime's top leaders-for example: "If there were any logic or objectivity in n.a.z.i sterilization laws Dr. Goebbels would have been sterilized quite some time ago." In 1941 she and Bill Jr. published their father's diary. The two also hoped to publish a book-length collection of letters to and from Dodd and asked George Messersmith to let them use several that he had posted to Dodd from Vienna. Messersmith refused. When Martha told him she would publish them anyway, Messersmith, never a fan of hers, got tough. "I told her that if she published my letters, either through an irresponsible or responsible publisher, that I would write a little article about what I knew about her and about certain episodes in her life and that my article would be much more interesting than anything that would be in her book." He added, "That ended the matter."

These were compelling years. The war Dodd had forecast was waged and won. In 1945, at long last, Martha achieved a goal she long had dreamed of: she published a novel. Ent.i.tled Sowing the Wind Sowing the Wind and clearly based on the life of one of her past lovers, Ernst Udet, the book described how n.a.z.ism seduced and degraded a good-hearted World War I flying ace. That same year, she and her husband adopted a baby and named him Robert. and clearly based on the life of one of her past lovers, Ernst Udet, the book described how n.a.z.ism seduced and degraded a good-hearted World War I flying ace. That same year, she and her husband adopted a baby and named him Robert.

Martha at last created her own successful salon, which from time to time drew the likes of Paul Robeson, Lillian h.e.l.lman, Margaret Bourke-White, and Isamu Noguchi. The talk was bright and good and evoked for Martha those lovely afternoons in the home of her friend Mildred Fish Harnack-although now the recollection of Mildred was bordered in black. Martha had received news about her old friend that suddenly made their last meeting in Berlin seem laced with portent. She recalled how they had chosen a remote table at an out-of-the-way restaurant and how pridefully Mildred had described the "growing effectiveness" of the underground network she and her husband, Arvid, had established. Mildred was not a physically demonstrative woman, but at the close of this lunch she gave Martha a kiss.

By now, however, Martha knew that a few years after that meeting Mildred had been arrested by the Gestapo, along with Arvid and dozens of others in their network. Arvid was tried and condemned to death by hanging; he was executed at Berlin's Plotzensee Prison on December 22, 1942. The executioner used a short rope to ensure slow strangulation. Mildred was forced to watch. At her own trial she was sentenced to six years in prison. Hitler himself ordered a retrial. This time the sentence was death. On February 16, 1943, at 6:00 p.m., she was executed by guillotine. Her last words: "And I have loved Germany so."

FOR A TIME AFTER leaving Berlin, Martha continued her covert flirtation with Soviet intelligence. Her code name was "Liza," though this suggests more drama than surviving records support. Her career as a spy seems to have consisted mainly of talk and possibility, though the prospect of a less vaporous partic.i.p.ation certainly intrigued Soviet intelligence officials. A secret cable from Moscow to New York in January 1942 called Martha "a gifted, clever and educated woman" but noted that "she requires constant control over her behavior." One rather more prudish Soviet operative was unimpressed. "She considers herself a Communist and claims to accept the party's program. In reality 'Liza' is a typical representative of American bohemia, a s.e.xually decayed woman ready to sleep with any handsome man." leaving Berlin, Martha continued her covert flirtation with Soviet intelligence. Her code name was "Liza," though this suggests more drama than surviving records support. Her career as a spy seems to have consisted mainly of talk and possibility, though the prospect of a less vaporous partic.i.p.ation certainly intrigued Soviet intelligence officials. A secret cable from Moscow to New York in January 1942 called Martha "a gifted, clever and educated woman" but noted that "she requires constant control over her behavior." One rather more prudish Soviet operative was unimpressed. "She considers herself a Communist and claims to accept the party's program. In reality 'Liza' is a typical representative of American bohemia, a s.e.xually decayed woman ready to sleep with any handsome man."

Through Martha's efforts, her husband also aligned himself with the KGB-his code name was "Louis." Martha and Stern were very public about their mutual interest in communism and leftist causes, and in 1953 they drew the attention of the House Committee on Un-American Activities, chaired then by Representative Martin Dies, which issued subpoenas to have them testify. They fled to Mexico, but as pressure from federal authorities increased, they moved again, settling ultimately in Prague, where they lived a very noncommunistic lifestyle in a three-story, twelve-room villa attended by servants. They bought a new black Mercedes.

At first, the idea of being an international fugitive appealed to Martha's persistent sense of herself as a woman of danger, but as the years pa.s.sed, a weariness overtook her. During the couple's first years of exile, their son began exhibiting signs of severe psychic unrest and was diagnosed as schizophrenic. Martha became "obsessed"-her husband's term-with the idea that the commotion of their flight and subsequent travels had caused Robert's illness.

Martha and Stern found Prague an alien place with an unfathomable language. "We can't say we like it here, to be perfectly honest," she wrote to a friend. "Naturally we would prefer to go home but home won't take us yet.... It is a life of considerable limitations intellectually and creatively (also we don't speak the language; a great handicap) and we feel isolated and often very lonely." She spent her time housekeeping and gardening: "fruit trees, lilacs, vegetables, flowers, birds, insects...only one snake in four years!"

Martha learned during this time that one of her ex-loves, Rudolf Diels, had died, and in a fas.h.i.+on wholly unexpected for a man so adept at survival. After two years in Cologne, he had become regional commissioner in Hannover, only to be fired for exhibiting too much moral scruple. He took a job as director of inland s.h.i.+pping for a civilian company but was later arrested in the vast roundup that followed the July 20, 1944, a.s.sa.s.sination attempt against Hitler. Diels survived the war and during the Nuremberg trials testified on behalf of the prosecution. Later, he became a senior official in the government of West Germany. His luck ran out on November 18, 1957, during a hunting trip. As he was removing a rifle from his car, the weapon discharged and killed him.

MARTHA GREW DISILLUSIONED with communism as practiced in everyday life. Her disenchantment became outright disgust during the "Prague Spring" of 1968, when she awoke one day to find tanks rumbling past on the street outside her house during the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. "It was," she wrote, "one of the ugliest and most repugnant sights we had ever seen." with communism as practiced in everyday life. Her disenchantment became outright disgust during the "Prague Spring" of 1968, when she awoke one day to find tanks rumbling past on the street outside her house during the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. "It was," she wrote, "one of the ugliest and most repugnant sights we had ever seen."

She renewed old friends.h.i.+ps by mail. She and Max Delbruck launched a spirited correspondence. She addressed him as "Max, my love"; he called her "my dearly beloved Martha." They bantered about their increasing physical imperfections. "I am fine, fine, just fine," he told her, "except for a little heart disease, and a little multiple myeloma." He swore the chemotherapy had caused his hair to grow back.

Other men fared less well in Martha's retroactive appraisal. Prince Louis Ferdinand had become "that a.s.s," and Putzi Hanfstaengl "a real buffoon."

But one great love now appeared to burn just as bright as ever. Martha began writing to Ba.s.sett, her former husband-the first of her three great loves-and soon they were corresponding as if they were back in their twenties, parsing their past romance to try to figure out what had gone wrong. Ba.s.sett confessed he had destroyed all the love letters she had ever sent him, having realized "that, even with the pa.s.sage of time, I could never bear to read them, much less would I want anyone else to share them after I've gone."

Martha, however, had kept his. "Such love letters!" she wrote.

"One thing is sure," she told him in a November 1971 letter, when she was sixty-three years old. "Had we stayed together, we would have had a vital, varied and pa.s.sionate life together.... I wonder if you would have remained happy with a woman as unconventional as I am and was, even though we would not have had the complications that came to me later. Still I have had joy with sorrow, productiveness with beauty and shock! I have loved you and Alfred and one other, and still do. So that is the queer bird, still lively, that you once loved and married."

In 1979 a federal court cleared her and Stern of all charges, albeit grudgingly, citing lack of evidence and the deaths of witnesses. They longed to return to America, and considered doing so, but realized another obstacle remained in their path. For all those years in exile they had not paid U.S. taxes. The acc.u.mulated debt was now prohibitively high.

They considered moving elsewhere-perhaps England or Switzerland-but another obstacle arose, the most stubborn of all: old age.

By now the years and illness had taken a serious toll on the world of Martha's recollection. Bill Jr. had died in October 1952 of cancer, leaving a wife and two sons. He had spent his years after Berlin moving from job to job, ending as a clerk in the book department of Macy's in San Francisco. Along the way, his own left-leaning sympathies had caused him to run afoul of the Dies Committee, which had declared him "unfit" for employment by any federal agency, this at a time when he was working for the Federal Communications Commission. His death had left Martha the sole survivor of the family. "Bill was a very swell guy, a warm and fine person, who had his share of frustration and suffering-maybe more than his share," Martha wrote in a letter to Bill's first wife, Audrey. "I miss him so terribly and feel empty and alone without him."

Quentin Reynolds died on March 17, 1965, at the not-very-old age of sixty-two. Putzi Hanfstaengl, whose sheer size had seemed to make him invulnerable, died on November 6, 1975, in Munich. He was eighty-eight. Sigrid Schultz, the Dragon from Chicago, died on May 14, 1980, at eighty-seven. And Max Delbruck, presumably with a full head of hair, pa.s.sed away in March 1981, his exuberance quenched at last. He was seventy-four.

This great withering was very sad and raised powerful questions. In March 1984, when Martha was seventy-five years old and Stern eighty-six, Martha asked a friend, "Where do you think we should die if we could choose? Here or abroad? Would it be easier if the survivor was left here with painful memories? or to get the h.e.l.l out and go alone to a new place; or is it better to go together and then be bereft and saddened by unrealized dreams and no or few friends in a new environment but still having had a few years to establish some sort of home abroad?"

Martha was the survivor. Stern died in 1986. Martha remained in Prague even though, as she wrote to friends, "Nowhere could be as lonely for me as it is here."

She died in 1990 at the age of eighty-two, not precisely a hero but certainly a woman of principle who never wavered in her belief that she had done the right thing in helping the Soviets against the n.a.z.is at a time when most of the world was disinclined to do anything. She died still dancing on the rim of danger-a queer bird in exile, promising, flirting, remembering-unable after Berlin to settle into her role as hausfrau and needing instead to see herself once again as something grand and bright.

Ba.s.sett, old loyal Ba.s.sett, outlasted her by another six years. He had forsaken the magnificent copper beech of Larchmont for an apartment on Manhattan's Upper East Side, where he died peacefully at age 102.

CODA.

"Table Talk"

Years after the war, a cache of doc.u.ments came to light that proved to be transcripts of conversations between Hitler and his men, recorded by his deputy Martin Bormann. One of these transcripts concerned a conversation over dinner in October 1941 at Wolfsschanze, or Wolf's Lair, Hitler's redoubt in East Prussia. The subject of Martha Dodd came up.

Hitler, who once had kissed her hand, said, "To think that there was n.o.body in all this ministry who could get his clutches on the daughter of the former American amba.s.sador, Dodd-and yet she wasn't difficult to approach. That was their job, and it should have been done. In short, the girl should have been subjugated.... In the old days when we wanted to lay siege to an industrialist, we attacked him through his children. Old Dodd, who was an imbecile, we'd have got him through his daughter."

One of Hitler's dinner companions asked, "Was she pretty at least?"

Another guest snorted, "Hideous."

"But one must rise above that, my dear fellow," Hitler said. "It's one of the qualifications. Otherwise, I ask you, why should our diplomats be paid? In that case, diplomacy would no longer be a service, but a pleasure. And it might end in marriage!"

SOURCES AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

The country club where Dodd's farm stood ( (photo credit sack.1)

What I did not realize as I ventured into those dark days of Hitler's rule was how much the darkness would infiltrate my own soul. I generally pride myself on possessing a journalist's remove, the ability to mourn tragedy and at the same time appreciate its narrative power, but living among n.a.z.is day in, day out proved for me a uniquely trying experience. For a time I kept on my desk a copy of Ian Kershaw's. .h.i.tler, 18891936: Hubris. .h.i.tler, 18891936: Hubris, a work of grand scope that served as my field guide to the politics of the era. On the cover is a photograph of Hitler that became for me so repulsive-apologies to Sir Ian-that I had to keep the book on my desk facedown, as it were, for to start each day with a look at those hate-filled eyes and slack cheeks and that fragment of Brillo that pa.s.sed for a mustache was far too dispiriting.

There exists a vast oeuvre of historical writing on Hitler and World War II that must be read no matter how small the episode one plans to study. All this reading deepened my spiritual malaise, not because of the sheer volume involved but because of the horrors revealed. It is difficult to fathom the breadth and depth of the landscape of war created by Hitler-the deportations of Jews to extermination camps even after the inevitability of Germany's defeat became obvious to all; the tank battles against Russian forces that took tens of thousands of lives in a matter of days; the reprisal killings for which the n.a.z.is became infamous, where on some sunny afternoon in a village in France a dozen men and women would be whisked from their homes and shops, stood before a wall, and shot. No preamble, no good-byes; just birdsong and blood.

Certain books, Kershaw's Hubris Hubris foremost among them, proved exceptionally helpful in detailing the broad play of forces and men in the years that preceded World War II. I include here a couple of old but still worthy cla.s.sics, Alan Bullock's foremost among them, proved exceptionally helpful in detailing the broad play of forces and men in the years that preceded World War II. I include here a couple of old but still worthy cla.s.sics, Alan Bullock's. .h.i.tler: A Study in Tyranny Hitler: A Study in Tyranny and William s.h.i.+rer's and William s.h.i.+rer's The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, as well as the more recent works of Kershaw's doppelganger in scholars.h.i.+p, Richard J. Evans, whose The Third Reich in Power: 19331939 The Third Reich in Power: 19331939 and and The Third Reich at War: 19391945 The Third Reich at War: 19391945 are ma.s.sive volumes lush with compelling, if appalling, detail. are ma.s.sive volumes lush with compelling, if appalling, detail.

A number of books that focused more closely on my particular parcel of ground proved very useful, among them Resisting Hitler: Mildred Harnack and the Red Orchestra Resisting Hitler: Mildred Harnack and the Red Orchestra, by Shareen Blair Brysac; The Haunted Wood The Haunted Wood, by KGB historians Allen Weinstein and Alexander Va.s.siliev; and Spies: The Rise and Fall of the KGB in America Spies: The Rise and Fall of the KGB in America, by Va.s.siliev, John Earl Haynes, and Harvey Klehr.

Of particular, and obvious, value were Amba.s.sador Dodd's Diary Amba.s.sador Dodd's Diary, edited by Martha and Bill Jr., and Martha's memoir, Through Emba.s.sy Eyes Through Emba.s.sy Eyes. Neither work is wholly trustworthy; both must be treated with care and used only in conjunction with other, corroborative sources. Martha's memoir is necessarily her own rendering of the people and events she encountered and as such is indispensable as a window into her thoughts and feelings, but it contains interesting omissions. Nowhere, for example, does she refer by name to Mildred Fish Harnack or to Boris Winogradov, presumably because to have done so in a work published in 1939 would have placed both of them at grave risk. However, doc.u.ments among Martha's papers in the Library of Congress reveal by triangulation the points in her memoir where both Harnack and Winogradov make appearances. Her papers include her detailed and never-published accounts of her relations.h.i.+ps with Boris and Mildred and correspondence from both. Boris wrote his letters in German, salted with English phrases and the occasional "Darling!" For translations of these, I turned to a fellow Seattle resident, Britta Hirsch, who also gamely translated lengthy portions of far more tedious doc.u.ments, among them an old bill of sale for the house on Tiergartenstra.s.se and portions of Rudolf Diels's memoir, Lucifer Ante Portas Lucifer Ante Portas.

As for Amba.s.sador Dodd's diary, questions persist as to whether it is truly a diary as conventionally understood or rather a compendium of his writings pieced together in diary form by Martha and Bill. Martha always insisted the diary was real. Robert Dallek, biographer of presidents, wrestled with the question in his 1968 biography of Dodd, t.i.tled Democrat and Diplomat Democrat and Diplomat, and had the benefit of having received a letter from Martha herself in which she described its genesis. "It is absolutely authentic," she told Dallek. "Dodd had a couple of dozen of black s.h.i.+ny medium size notebooks in which he wrote every night he could possibly do so, in his Berlin study before going to bed, and at other times as well." These, she explained, formed the core of the diary, though she and her brother included elements of speeches, letters, and reports that they found appended to the pages within. The initial draft, Martha wrote, was a diary 1,200 pages long, pared down by a professional editor hired by the publisher. Dallek believed the diary to be "generally accurate."

All I can add to the discussion are some little discoveries of my own. In my research at the Library of Congress, I found one leather-bound diary full of entries for the year 1932. At the very least, this testifies to Dodd's inclination to keep such a record. It resides in Box 58. In Dodd's other papers, I found oblique references to a more comprehensive and confidential diary. The most telling such reference appears in a letter dated March 10, 1938, from Mrs. Dodd to Martha, written shortly before the then-retired amba.s.sador made a trip to New York. Mrs. Dodd tells Martha, "He is taking some of his diary for you to look over. Send them back by him as he will need them. Be careful what you quote."

Finally, after having read Martha's memoir, her Udet novel, and her papers, and after reading thousands of pages of Amba.s.sador Dodd's correspondence, telegrams, and reports, I can offer one of those intangible observations that comes only after long exposure to a given body of material, and that is that Dodd's published diary sounds sounds like Dodd, like Dodd, feels feels authentic, and expresses sentiments that are in perfect accord with his letters to Roosevelt, Hull, and others. authentic, and expresses sentiments that are in perfect accord with his letters to Roosevelt, Hull, and others.

The National Archives branch in College Park, Maryland-known as National Archives II-proved to have an amazing collection of materials, twenty-seven boxes' worth, relating to the Berlin emba.s.sy and consulate, including a count of all the dinnerware in each, down to the number of finger bowls. The Library of Congress, home to the papers of William and Martha Dodd, Cordell Hull, and Wilbur J. Carr, proved as always to be heaven's gift to research. At the University of Delaware in Newark, I examined the papers of George Messersmith, one of the most beautifully archived collections I've ever come across, and had the pleasure while there of staying at the home of great friends Karen Kral and John Sherman and drinking far too much. At Harvard-which rejected my application to its undergraduate college some years ago, surely an oversight, and one that I have forgiven, mostly-I spent several delightful days scouring the papers of William Phillips and Jay Pierrepont Moffat, both Harvard men. The folks at Yale University's Beinecke Rare Book and Ma.n.u.script Library were kind enough to raid their collection of Thornton Wilder's papers and provide me with copies of letters sent to him by Martha Dodd. Other archives proved useful as well, especially the oral-history collections at both Columbia University and the New York Public Library.

I tend to distrust online resources but located several that proved extremely helpful, including a digitized collection of letters between Roosevelt and Dodd, courtesy of the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Presidential Library in Hyde Park, New York, and the notebooks of Alexander Va.s.siliev, the ex-KGB agent turned scholar, who graciously made them accessible to the public through the Web site of the Cold War International History Project at the Woodrow Wilson Center for Scholars in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C. Anyone who wishes can also digitally thumb through the so-called Venona Intercepts, communications between Moscow Center and KGB agents in America intercepted and decoded by American intelligence officials, including missives involving Martha Dodd and Alfred Stern. Once one of America's most closely guarded secrets, these materials now reside on the public Web site of the National Security Agency and reveal not only that America was rife with spies but that spying tended to be an excruciatingly mundane pursuit.

One challenge I faced in researching this book was how to gain a sense of the Tiergarten district of prewar Berlin, where Dodd and Martha spent so much of their time and which was in large part obliterated by Allied bombers and the final Russian a.s.sault on the city. I acquired a prewar Baedeker guide, which proved invaluable in helping me locate important landmarks, such as the Romanisches Cafe at Kurfurstendamm 238 and the Hotel Adlon at Unter den Linden 1. I read as many memoirs of the era as I could, mining them for insights into daily life in Berlin while keeping in mind that memoirs of the n.a.z.i era tend to contain a good deal of self-engineering to make the author seem less complicit in the rise and rule of the n.a.z.i Party than perhaps he or she truly was. The most glaring example of this must surely be Franz von Papen's Memoirs Memoirs, published in 1953, in which he claims that he prepared his Marburg speech "with great care," a contention no one takes seriously. It was as big a surprise to him as it was to his audience.

The memoirlike novels of Christopher Isherwood, namely The Last of Mr. Norris The Last of Mr. Norris and and Goodbye to Berlin Goodbye to Berlin, proved especially useful for their observations about the look and feel of the city in the years immediately preceding Hitler's rise, when Isherwood was himself a resident of Berlin. I took great delight in now and then visiting YouTube.com to search for old film footage of Berlin and found quite a bit, including the 1927 silent film Berlin: Symphony of a Great City Berlin: Symphony of a Great City, which sought to capture one full day of Berlin life. I was especially pleased to find a 1935 propaganda film, Miracle of Flight Miracle of Flight, intended to attract young men to the Luftwaffe, in which Martha's onetime lover Ernst Udet stars as himself and even shows off his Berlin apartment, which looks very much the way Martha described it in her memoir.

I found the State Historical Society of Wisconsin to be a trove of relevant materials that conveyed a sense of the woof and weave of life in Hitler's Berlin. There, in one locale, I found the papers of Sigrid Schultz, Hans V. Kaltenborn, and Louis Lochner. A short and lovely walk away, in the library of the University of Wisconsin, I found as well a supply of materials on the only UW alumna to be guillotined at Hitler's command, Mildred Fish Harnack.

Most important, however, was my experience of Berlin itself. Enough of the city remains to provide a sense of the overall layout of things. Oddly enough the buildings of Goring's Air Ministry survived the war largely intact, as did those of army headquarters, the Bendler Block. What I found most striking was how close everything was to the Dodds' home, with every major government office an easy walk away, including Gestapo headquarters and Hitler's chancellery, neither of which exists today. Where the Dodds' home at Tiergartenstra.s.se 27a once stood there is now a vacant, overgrown lot surrounded by a chain-link fence. The Bendler Block is visible in the background.

I owe special thanks to Gianna Sommi Panofsky and her husband, Hans, son of Alfred Panofsky, the Dodds' landlord in Berlin. The couple settled in Evanston, Illinois; Hans taught at Northwestern University. Mrs. Panofsky graciously provided me with the original floor plans for the house on Tiergartenstra.s.se (which a Northwestern journalism graduate student, Ashley Keyser, carefully secured and copied on my behalf). Mrs. Panofsky was a delight to talk to. Sadly, she died in early 2010 of colon cancer.

Above all, I thank my loyal early readers Carrie Dolan and her husband, Ryan Russell; my daughters, Kristen, Lauren, and Erin; and, as always, my wife and secret weapon, Christine Gleason, whose margin notes-complete with crying faces and trailing lines of zzzzzzz's-once again proved indispensable. Thanks to my daughters also for their increasingly astute critiques of my manner of dress. I owe a huge debt to Betty Prashker, my editor of nearly two decades, and to John Glusman, whose deft hand guided this book to publication. Thanks also to Domenica Alioto for taking on tasks she should not have to take on, and Jacob Bronstein, who so ably straddles the boundary between Web and world. An extra huzzah to Penny Simon for her friends.h.i.+p and expertise at getting me to do things I don't want to do; to Tina Constable for her confidence; and to David Black, my longtime agent, wine adviser, and great friend. Finally, a long, long hug to Molly, our lovely, sweet dog, who succ.u.mbed to liver cancer at the age of ten as my work on this book neared its end. In her last weeks, however, she did manage to catch a rabbit, something she had sought unsuccessfully to do for years. We miss her every day.

WHEN I WAS IN BERLIN a strange thing happened, one of those odd little moments of s.p.a.ce-time congruity that always seem to occur when I'm most deeply immersed in researching a book. I stayed at the Ritz-Carlton near the Tiergarten, not because it was a Ritz but because it was a brand-new Ritz offering rooms at compellingly low come-hither rates. That the month was February helped also. On my first morning, too jet-lagged to do anything terribly ambitious, I set out for a walk and headed for the Tiergarten, with the vague idea that I'd walk until I found the Dodds' address, unless I froze to death first. It was an icy, bl.u.s.tery morning, marked by the occasional appearance of flecks of snow falling at oblique angles. As I walked, I came upon a particularly interesting bit of architectural preservation-a large portion of the facade of an old bullet-pocked building standing behind a giant wall of gla.s.s. A bridgelike deck spanned the top of this facade and supported several stories of modern luxury apartments. Out of random curiosity, I walked to an informational plaque that identified the facade. It belonged to the Hotel Esplanade, where the Dodds stayed when they first arrived in Berlin. Here as well, also behind gla.s.s, was an inside wall of the Esplanade's breakfast room restored to original condition. It was strange to see these architectural artifacts lodged behind gla.s.s, like giant, immobile fish, but also revelatory. For an instant I could a strange thing happened, one of those odd little moments of s.p.a.ce-time congruity that always seem to occur when I'm most deeply immersed in researching a book. I stayed at the Ritz-Carlton near the Tiergarten, not because it was a Ritz but because it was a brand-new Ritz offering rooms at compellingly low come-hither rates. That the month was February helped also. On my first morning, too jet-lagged to do anything terribly ambitious, I set out for a walk and headed for the Tiergarten, with the vague idea that I'd walk until I found the Dodds' address, unless I froze to death first. It was an icy, bl.u.s.tery morning, marked by the occasional appearance of flecks of snow falling at oblique angles. As I walked, I came upon a particularly interesting bit of architectural preservation-a large portion of the facade of an old bullet-pocked building standing behind a giant wall of gla.s.s. A bridgelike deck spanned the top of this facade and supported several stories of modern luxury apartments. Out of random curiosity, I walked to an informational plaque that identified the facade. It belonged to the Hotel Esplanade, where the Dodds stayed when they first arrived in Berlin. Here as well, also behind gla.s.s, was an inside wall of the Esplanade's breakfast room restored to original condition. It was strange to see these architectural artifacts lodged behind gla.s.s, like giant, immobile fish, but also revelatory. For an instant I could see see Dodd and Martha setting off to begin their days, Dodd heading north at a brisk clip to the Tiergarten for his walk to the emba.s.sy offices on Bendlerstra.s.se, Martha rus.h.i.+ng south to meet Rudolf Diels at the old art school on Prinz-Albrecht-Stra.s.se before a quiet lunch in some discreet locale. Dodd and Martha setting off to begin their days, Dodd heading north at a brisk clip to the Tiergarten for his walk to the emba.s.sy offices on Bendlerstra.s.se, Martha rus.h.i.+ng south to meet Rudolf Diels at the old art school on Prinz-Albrecht-Stra.s.se before a quiet lunch in some discreet locale.

The following notes are by no means exhaustive. I have been careful always to credit material quoted from other works and to annotate those facts and observations that for one reason or another cry out for attribution, such as Ian Kershaw's revelation-Hubris, page 485-that one of Hitler's favorite movies was King Kong King Kong. As always, for those readers who like reading footnotes-and there are many of you-I have included little stories and facts that did not fit the main narrative but that struck me as too interesting or compelling to omit. For this indulgence, forgive me.

NOTES.

The Man Behind the Curtain 1 It was common: For details of the Schachno case, see "Conversation with Goering," unpublished memoir, 56; and Messersmith to Hull, July 11, 1933, and July 18, 1933, all in Messersmith Papers. See also c.u.mulative report on a.s.saults against Americans in Phillips to Roosevelt, Aug. 23, 1933, file no. 362.1113 /4 1 /2, State/Decimal. It was common: For details of the Schachno case, see "Conversation with Goering," unpublished memoir, 56; and Messersmith to Hull, July 11, 1933, and July 18, 1933, all in Messersmith Papers. See also c.u.mulative report on a.s.saults against Americans in Phillips to Roosevelt, Aug. 23, 1933, file no. 362.1113 /4 1 /2, State/Decimal.

2 "From the neck down": Messersmith, "Conversation with Goering," unpublished memoir, 6, Messersmith Papers. "From the neck down": Messersmith, "Conversation with Goering," unpublished memoir, 6, Messersmith Papers.

3 "From the shoulder blades": Messersmith to Hull, July 11, 1933, Messersmith Papers. "From the shoulder blades": Messersmith to Hull, July 11, 1933, Messersmith Papers.

4 "I wish it were": Messersmith to Phillips, June 26, 1933, Messersmith Papers. "I wish it were": Messersmith to Phillips, June 26, 1933, Messersmith Papers.

5 Inauguration Day in 1933: The Twentieth Amendment, pa.s.sed in 1933, moved the inauguration date from March 4 to the now familiar January 20, a measure to reduce the amount of time that an outgoing president would be a lame duck. Inauguration Day in 1933: The Twentieth Amendment, pa.s.sed in 1933, moved the inauguration date from March 4 to the now familiar January 20, a measure to reduce the amount of time that an outgoing president would be a lame duck.

6 Incredibly, the new amba.s.sador: For more detail than you'll ever need about the s.h.i.+pping of Dodd's car, see Howard Fyfe to Harry A. Havens, July 8, 1933; Herbert C. Hengstler to Dodd, July 10, 1933; and Paul T. Culbertson to Dodd, June 19, 1933, all in Box 40, W. E. Dodd Papers. Incredibly, the new amba.s.sador: For more detail than you'll ever need about the s.h.i.+pping of Dodd's car, see Howard Fyfe to Harry A. Havens, July 8, 1933; Herbert C. Hengstler to Dodd, July 10, 1933; and Paul T. Culbertson to Dodd, June 19, 1933, all in Box 40, W. E. Dodd Papers.

PART I: INTO THE WOOD.

Chapter 1: Means of Escape.

1 The telephone call: Dodd, The telephone call: Dodd, Diary Diary, 3.

2 Dodd also owned: "Farming Implements" and Survey, Box 59, W. E. Dodd Papers. Dodd also owned: "Farming Implements" and Survey, Box 59, W. E. Dodd Papers.