Family Objects: A Jewish Identity Card from Nazi Germany

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

When Allan Rayburn‘s father finally spoke to him about the war, he said very little. The Nazi stamp and letter “J” on the card he pulled from the back of his dresser drawer did the talking for him. It had been folded away for fifty years, and Allan immediately understood the importance of the moment.

Like many Holocaust survivors, Allan’s father had focused on building a future for himself and his family rather than talking about the past. So years later, when Allan wanted to write the story of his father’s life for his grandchildren, he wasn’t sure where to begin.

I suggested Allan start with a family object and write whatever came to his mind. He chose his father’s Jewish identity card.

As he jotted down his memories of that day with his father, what he knew and wondered came tumbling out in the form of questions. Those questions became a roadmap, showing how much his father had kept inside and where the story needed to go.

A single family object can open the door to what you know about your family’s past.

Allan’s jotting about the card led to his first story Slice below.

The Day My Father Unfolded His Jewish Identity Card

by Allan Rayburn

One day, as my father was preparing to move from his apartment, several years after my mother died, he was showing me a few items he had taken from his dresser. He mentioned that he had his Jewish identification card issued by the Nazis. I was shocked to see this cloth billfold, neatly folded in quarters, with a large letter ‘J’ on the cover.

He had kept this hidden from us for fifty years. It was in near perfect condition and looked like he had used it yesterday. He gave it to me that day and I had it framed with glass, both sides, so the family could see what he had needed to carry daily in Germany as a symbol of being a Jew.

Questions About the Card

I’ve often wondered, as I look at this artifact, what it must have been like for him the day he had to report to the Gestapo to have this ID made. Was he alone? Was his mother with him? Was he nervous or fearful?

His picture was taken, he was fingerprinted, the obvious questions about his identity were asked by the Gestapo. His picture has a look of strength, defiance, and fear in his eyes. What was he thinking?

He must have been thinking of his father, who had recently been taken to Sachsenhausen concentration camp after Kristallnacht and then released. Was he going next? What was he thinking as his name was changed in front of him, adding “Israel” as a middle name, forever identifying him as a Jew?

He had kept this hidden from us for fifty years. He gave it to me that day…and began to open up about his life.

Why did he keep this billfold, neatly folded in quarters, all the time he made his way to England, throughout his time in the British internment camp, his name change in the British Army, his years fighting in India during the war, back to England, through married life in Manchester, in Connecticut, and Rochester?

Why keep it hidden from my mother, my siblings, and me for all those years? Why bring it out on this day? I wish I’d asked, but I didn’t, so I’m left to my own theories.

I think it may have been a metaphor for this portion of his life, folded and put away in a drawer, not to be looked at, remembered, or discussed. Just put away, and when he revealed this billfold, by a casual reference made that day, he began to open up about his life.

He would eventually record a video story of his life, return with his family to his hometown in Halle, Germany several times, even visiting the home he grew up in, and would be invited to speak to a group of German residents about his life growing up in Halle as a Jew. He would speak at his synagogue about his experiences around Kristallnacht and encourage us all to never forget.

With this Slice, Allan’s journey to write his father’s story was underway. Read his next story Slice in Family Events: Getting Out of Germany in 1939.