Hermann Hoefer
* 1868

To begin with, I would like to thank all those who made it possible to lay this Stolperstein for my grandfather, Hermann Hoefer. My special thanks go to the Lions Club for taking on the sponsorship.

Quite some time ago, I learned in the first place that these “stumbling stones” exist at all and that they are laid by the artist Gunter Demnig. I was enthusiastic about the idea, and at some point – unfortunately, only much later – the idea came to me that one could place such a stone for Grandpa Hoefer as well.

Surely, it is no coincidence that in August of this year I walked by here because my daughter Nina works on Eppendorfer Landstrasse. I wanted to visit her and thought, “On that occasion, you might as well look and see whether anything has changed in the vicinity of house no. 74.” I was about to walk on when I looked on the ground – I have no idea why – and discovered, in utter disbelief, this stone. It had been laid only recently, in July 2009, parallel to my intention of seeing to a stumbling stone!

Pleasantly surprised and completely amazed, I racked my brain as to who could have arranged this. Certainly, it had not been a member of my family. There are not too many of us left.

I asked Mr. Diercks about it with whom I was in contact regarding a few documents of the Hoefer family. He referred me to Mr. Hess. From Mr. Hess, I learned that a woman by the name of Hochmuth had organized the investigations into Nazi victims and passed on lists with names to Mr. Hess. One of these lists contained my grandfather’s name.

I have Mr. Hess, Mrs. Hochmuth, and the Lions Club to thank for the fact that all of us have a chance here and now to think of and honor my Grandpa.

What distinguished my grandfather, the Social Democratic teacher Hermann Hoefer, was, as one can read in an obituary by Gerhard Hoch, his voluntary work as a caregiver to the poor. While still a young person, he performed self-sacrificing aid in Hamburg during the time of the cholera epidemic.

He had joined the German Communist Party (KPD) in 1924 and represented that party as a member of the Hamburg City Parliament. He was known for giving even political opponents attention and respect by way of his calm, reflective manner of arguing.

One of his character features was his subtle humor. For instance, once when discussions revolved around the allocation of funds for school equipment, he said, “What is missing in the school on Marienthalerstrasse is a dark room. Even though otherwise we are against ‘dark rooms,’ every school does require a darkroom because photography must be treated in physics class.”

His letters to my mother reveal that he had terrific fun with his two grandchildren, my brothers, as I had not been born back then. When he came to visit, he would walk past the front door on purpose. “Just the other day,” he wrote in a letter about Uwe, who was three or four years old, “I heard him coo at the top of his lungs: ‘Grandpa, you are walking past!’ – So I called out to him, “Well, if you don’t tell me …,’ to which Uwe replied, “But I did shout very loudly!’”

In 1933, my grandfather was, like many other teachers, pushed out of his job, because he did not submit to the Nazi regime without resistance.

He and his oldest daughter, Margarethe, who admired her father very much and was politically active along his lines, were in prison several times.

In July 1943, something incredible happened, with a tragic outcome:

The air raids on Hamburg wreaked such havoc that the public prosecutor’s office felt compelled to grant temporary leave from detention for two months to some 2,000 prisoners awaiting trial. Their number also included Heinz Priess, a friend of Hermann Hoefer. He decided not to report back after the two months had passed, instead going underground. Hermann and Margarethe Hoefer were immediately prepared to hide him in their forest house in Dassendorf.
Both Hoefers were given away by an informer and arrested again.

Heinz Priess was sentenced to death.

When Hermann Hoefer was put on trial in 1944 before the People’s Court (Volksgerichtshof) in Berlin on charges of preparation to high treason (Vorbereitung zum Hochverrat), his wife Nicoline, called Nina, and his son Hermann, were placed under Gestapo detention for several months as well.

Hermann Hoefer was 76 years old when he was transported along with his daughter Margarethe to the penal institution in Coswig.

What I miss in terms of the honors granted to him and Margarethe is commemoration of Hoefer’s youngest daughter Edith, (she is my mother), who after the liberation by the Red Army got them out of the Russian occupational zone, enduring great strains and dreadfulness. My Grandpa, completely weakened and ill, was in a wheelchair and due to a broken arm, Margarethe did not have the strength to take him on the long journey home amidst the post-war chaos. Without hesitation, my mother and a friend of hers set out to get them. The friend was raped by the Russians. My mother was spared this fate because she was already older.

However, all of the strains were in vain, for Hermann Hoefer, having just arrived in Hamburg, died as a consequence of concentration camp imprisonment on 13 Dec. 1945. A seven-year old, I saw him in hospital shortly before his death. I will never forget the sight of the old man, marked by the torture he had endured.

Gretel [Margarethe] Hoefer once wrote to her parents from prison the consoling words, “Everything ends (some day).” In reverence for Hermann Hoefer and his family, I would like to add, “Every end is a new beginning.”

Translator: Erwin Fink

Kindly supported by the Hermann Reemtsma Stiftung, Hamburg.