Features
New book chronicles what were arguably the most important – and controversial Olympic Games in history
Review by BERNIE BELLAN With the 33rd Summer Olympics set to take place in Paris from July 26 to August 11, I thought it an opportune time to tell readers about a book that was released earlier this year and which provides a sweeping view of what were arguably the most controversial Olympic Games ever held – the 1936 Summer Olympics in Berlin, Germany.
Written by two writers, Glenn Allen and Richard Kaufman, who have spent most of their careers writing and producing films, PLAYED: The Games of the 1936 Berlin Olympics combines fiction and non-fiction in a thrilling, yet somewhat confusing manner.
Although Jewish readers are likely to find themselves focused on the rampant antisemitism that pervaded the games – given the determination of Hitler to use the Olympic Games as a masterful propaganda tool, this book is sure to appeal both to fans of the Olympic Games and students of history.
There are many heroes mentioned throughout “PLAYED,” including such well known names as Jesse Owens, who embarrassed Hitler to no end by winning what was then a record four Gold medals in various track events. But there were many other heroes as well, especially Alan Gould, who was the Associated Press Sports Editor, and who wrote many columns calling for a boycott of the games; and William Dodd, the US Ambassador to Germany from 1932-1937, who was warning of the dangers posed by the Nazi threat long before it became all too apparent to politicians, including President Franklin Roosevelt – who adopts quite a sanguine attitude toward the Nazi threat in this book.
And then there are the villains, chief among whom was the despicable Avery Brundage, President of the American Olympic Committee, who was determined to be appointed to the International Olympic Committee (of which he was later to become its president, from 1952-72). It is no coincidence that it was Brundage who was not only the key figure in overcoming resistance to the notion of the US boycotting the 1936 games, it was Brundage who was also central to the 1972 Munich Olympics carrying on even after the massacre of 11 Israeli athletes.
I admit that I knew quite a bit about Brundage’s unsavoury reputation even before reading this book, but the degree to which he connived to make sure America would be represented at the games when there was fierce opposition to exactly that position from many of the leading figures in the sports world in the US at the time is truly shocking.
But, while the historical record provides ample evidence of the extent to which Hitler and his henchmen were determined to use the Olympics as a showcase for Nazi superiority, while reading this book I couldn’t help but wonder just how much fiction was mixed with fact.
In the press release I was sent about the book, it was noted that “Based on real stories and real people involved in the 1936 Berlin Olympics, PLAYED plunges readers into a compelling, fictionalized account of the insanity and hysteria that unfolded across Germany, the United States and in much of the world from 1931 through 1936.”
I couldn’t help myself from questioning: Just how much is fact and how much is fiction in this book? Of course, given that the authors use their imaginations to conjure up the dialogue in the book, I kept thinking to myself – especially as I was reading about how sexually aggressive many of the female characters in this book were: Is this a case of two screenwriters using their past experiences writing movie scripts as an excuse to infuse something that might be passed off as a largely historical account with a great big dollop of licentiousness in order to attract readers?
Two of the major female characters: Martha Dodd, daughter of US Ambassador Dodd, and Eleanor Holm, a champion US swimmer, certainly led carefree sex lives – at least if you were to believe the accounts given in this book. Dodd, in particular, is such a fascinating character, because not only was she quite willing to go to bed with many Nazis (and it seemed – anyone who asked her), including Ernst “Putzi” Hanfstatengel, described as Hitler’s henchman – who would eagerly dispatch anyone Hitler wanted rid of, in time Martha Dodd ended up in the arms of a Russian spy – who himself was ordered executed by Stalin.
As for Holm, even though she was a champion in the swimming pool (in backstroke events), she hardly led a disciplined life as an athlete. In PLAYED, at least, she is one hell of a “player” – and this was well after she was married!
Unfortunately for Holm, however, one man who lusted after her – and whom she detested, was Avery Brundage. Now, I did try to find out whether the account given by Kaufman and Allen of what happened between Holm and Brundage when they were both on the same ship headed to the Berlin Olympics with the entire American team of athletes and officials, was in any way true. (In the book, Brundage attempts to rape Holm, but given her athleticism, she manages to deliver a solid kick to his nether regions – leaving him writhing in pain. The next day, he decides to kick her off the US Olympic team.) According to Holm’s own account, however, the reasons for her being booted off the team had to do with her not wanting to go to bed when she was told to do so. (I much prefer the PLAYED version – and if they ever make a movie from the book, I’m sure audiences would be much more interested in watching Holm do to Avery Brundage what a lot of women would probably fantasize about doing to men.)
Of course, the parts of the book describing some of the leading Nazis, including Hitler himself, along with Joseph Goebbels and Herman Goering, are luridly detailed – as one would expect any description of them to be, but one character who comes off quite favourably – much to my shock, is Leni Riefenstahl, the famed German filmmaker, who had already established a notorious reputation as a propagandist in her famous documentary about the 1934 Nuremburg Rally, “Triump of the Will.”
Rather than painting her as a tool of the Nazis though, the authors offer quite a sympathetic – even admiring portrait of someone who was wedded to her craft. According to this book, Riefenstahl actually fell in love with a member of the US Olympic team by the name of Glenn Morris, who goes on to win Gold in the decathlon competition. (Again, however, there is one unforgettable scene where Morris, after winning his medal, runs over to Riefenstahl, rips off her blouse, and kisses her breast. Is this a Hollywood screenwriter’s fantasy? Who knows?)
There are also many stories of Jewish athletes in this book – some of which are tragic. The female high jump champion in Germany at the time was someone by the name of Gretel Bergmann. Bergmann had gone to England prior to the Olympics knowing full well that she would not be allowed to compete for Nazi Germany. In the book, Putzi goes over to England and threatens Bergmann that she will have to return to compete for Germany, otherwise her family – who had still remained in Germany, will face severe consequences. When Bergmann reluctantly returns to Germany, Brundage points to her becoming part of the German Olympic team as a sign that the Nazis have softened their stance toward Jews, but once the American do agree to participate and cross the ocean to Germany, Bergmann develops a mysterious “injury” that prevents her from actually being part of the German team.
The book is full of such stories – so many, in fact, that your head will be spinning trying to keep track of all the characters mentioned in the book.
Still, if you want to enjoy a rollicking read that may or may not have many parts that are wholly concocted from the writers’ imaginations even though they’re writing about actual events, then you might want to give PLAYED a shot.
As for this year’s version of the Olympics, while there isn’t nearly the same dramatic tension surrounding them as there was prior to and during the 1936 Berlin Olympics, the cheating, skullduggery, and propaganda that permeated the 1936 games has forever tarnished the reputation of the Olympic Games and, while it’s a different type of antisemitism that we’re seeing on the world stage these days, we’re all holding our collective breaths wondering how Israeli athletes are going to be treated in Paris – the same way Jews were wondering how Jewish athletes were going to be treated in Nazi Germany in 1936.
PLAYED: The Games of the 1936 Berlin Olympics
Published 2024 by WordServe Publishing
419 pages
Features
I Speak “Jew”
By MARK E. PAULL I grew up in Montreal. Born in 1956. Anglo by birth, sure. But that never quite fit. I don’t speak “Anglo” the way they mean it. My real language is Jew.
And I don’t mean Hebrew or Yiddish. I mean the language of reading the room before you enter it. The code-switching, shame-dodging, laugh-first-so-they-don’t-pounce dialect we pick up early. It’s a language built on side-eyes and timing and ten generations of tension.
I speak French—enough to make myself understood. Enough to charm a dinner table, crack a joke, get someone’s uncle to nod. I’m not fluent, but I’m fast. Doesn’t matter. In Quebec, language isn’t grammar—it’s inheritance. It’s who your grandfather cursed out in a hardware store.
To the Francophones, I’ll never be one of them. My accent betrays me before I say a word. I’m just an Anglo. And not even that, really. Because when the lens tightens, when they look closely, I’m just un Juif. Just a Jew.
And to the Anglos? Same thing. I can wear the suit, speak the Queen’s English, order the wine properly—still a Jew. Even in rooms where I “pass,” I don’t belong. I’m not invited in to be myself. I’m invited in to behave. To be safe. To not say the thing that makes the air stiff.
We’re the only people still called by our religion. No one says “Orthodox” for a Greek. No one says “Vatican” for an Italian. No one calls a Black man “Baptist” before they see his face. But “Jew”? That sticks. That’s the label. Before passport. Before language. Before hello.
I’ve mostly made peace with that. But there’s still this ache—knowing you can live your whole life in a place and never really be from there.
Let me tell you a story.
We had this block party once—the folding-table, paper-plate kind. Kids zipping by on scooters. Music low. Everyone asked to bring something from “your culture.”
The Greek guy brought lemon potatoes and lamb—felt like it came with a side of Byzantine history. The Italians brought two lasagnas—meat and veggie—with basil placed like confetti. The Vietnamese couple brought shrimp rolls that vanished before they hit the table. Even the German guy—built like a fridge—brought bratwurst and a six-pack with gothic lettering.
And then us.
My partner made Moroccan fish. Her grandmother’s recipe. Red with tomatoes, garlic, cumin. Studded with olives and preserved lemon. I brought a bottle of white wine. Dry. Crisp. From the Golan Heights. Not Manischewitz. Not even close.
We laid it out. Someone leaned over: “Moroccan? But I thought you were Jewish.”
We smiled. “We are.”
Then: “So… where’s the brisket? Isn’t Jewish wine supposed to be sweet?”
That’s when it hits you. No matter how long you’ve lived here, how many snowstorms you’ve shoveled through, you’re still explaining yourself. Still translating your presence.
Because they don’t know. They don’t know Jews came from everywhere. That “Jewish” isn’t one dish—it’s a whole map. That we had Jews in Morocco before there was even a France. That some of us grew up on kreplach, some on kefta. That some of our mothers sang in Yiddish, others in Arabic, and some in both—depending on who was knocking.
They don’t know. And worse—they don’t ask.
And that’s the part that gets you. Not the slurs. Not the graffiti. Not even the occasional muttered cliché. It’s the blankness. The shrug. The image they already have of you that’s built out of dreidels and sitcoms.
“Jewish” as nostalgic. As novelty. Something they saw once on a bagel.
Sometimes, when those questions come, I float. One version of me walks out. Another turns into a mouse. One turns into a Frisbee. Just gone. Not mad. Just tired.
Because being a Jew isn’t cute. It’s not nostalgic.
It’s ancient.
Before Montreal.
Before France.
Before Poland. Before Spain.
Before pogroms.
Before ghettos.
Before Hitler.
Before even the word Europe.
We were there.
Go back to the 5th century. 2nd century.
Go back to Jesus—our kid, by the way.
Go further—Babylon. Persia.
Keep going—Temple. Exile. Wandering.
And still, after all that, I’m at a table in Quebec explaining why our fish has cumin in it.
It’s almost funny. If it didn’t wear you down a little.
I’m not looking for pity. This isn’t a complaint.
I’m proud. I know what I carry. I walk into any room with five thousand years behind me. I come from people who kept the lights on through every kind of darkness—and laughed through it, too.
But sometimes, I just wish I didn’t have to explain so much.
All I want is to put down my dish…
…and hear someone say:
“That smells amazing. Tell me the story.”
That’s all.
Mark E. Paull, C.A.C. is a Certified ADHD Coach – IPHM, CMA, IIC&M, CPD Certified
Writer | Lived-Experience Advocate | Type 1 Diabetic since 1967
He has been published in:
The New York Times, The Globe and Mail, Folklife Magazine, Times of Israel, CHADD’s Attention Magazine, The Good Men Project
Features
At 104, Besse Gurevich last original resident of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence
By MYRON LOVE At 104, Besse Gurevich is the last of the original residents of Shaftesbury Park Retirement Residence. She may also be the oldest member of our Jewish community.
Although her vision and her hearing have diminished considerably, her mind and memory are still intact. A few weeks back, this writer sat down with her in her suite as she recalled a life filled with highs and lows and her many contributions to her community, both in Winnipeg and Fort William before that.
The daughter of Jack and Rebecca Avit, her life’s journey began in 1921 in a home on Carlton Street near Ellice Avenue, near her father’s furniture store. He later operated a cap factory.
When she was ten, the family – she had two brothers and a sister – moved to Manitoba Avenue in the old North End. “My father had put a deposit down on a house on Scotia,” she recalls. “But my parents didn’t feel that the neighbourhood was Jewish enough.”
Her schooling included Peretz School and, like so many of her generation, St. John’s Tech (as it was known back then.) “I was actually supposed to be going to Isaac Newton for high school,” she says. We were living on the wrong side of the tracks for St. John’s. After one day at Isaac Newton, I found a way to transfer to St. John’s.”
In 1940, 19-year-old Bessie Avit married Jack Gurevich, a young man from Fort William. The wedding was marred though, by the sudden, untimely passing of her father.
Following the wedding, Besse moved with her new husband to Fort William where Jack Gurevich worked in retail clothing sales. “We lived in Fort William for 20 years,” she says. “Our three children (Judy, Richard and Howard) were born there.”
She recalls that there were about 200 Jewish families – including her sister and one of her brothers for some years – in town, during the time she lived there. “We were very well known in the community,” she recalls. “I was involved in everything.”
Her community activism continued after the family’s return to her home town. While Jack went to work as a salesman for Western Glove Works, Besse became an indefatigable community volunteer. At one time or another, she served as vice-president of ORT, Hadassah and National Council of Jewish Women in Winnipeg. She was also a long time B’nai Brith member.
In the business world, the highlight of her career was the building of Linden Woods. “I became involved in real estate development for a time,” she recalls. “I was hired by Genstar to develop Linden Woods. The company estimated that it would take about 20 years to complete. I got it done in two.”
She also taught hair dressing for a while. “I worked with many young Jewish brides,” she says.
Recent years have not been kind to Besse Gurevich. Her beloved husband, Jack, died in 2016 – after almost 65 years of marriage. Older son, Richard, passed away in Vancouver in 2018 and, most recently –six months ago – younger son, Howard, followed. She notes that there were 200 mourners at Howard’s funeral.
(Howard Gurevich was in marketing for many years before turning his talents to the art world. In recent years, he was best known for Gurevich Fine Art in the Exchange District and his support of local artists.)
Besse Gurevich celebrated her 100th birthday – which took place at the height of the Covid shutdown – quietly.
While she used to enjoy reading. she is unable to do so any more. She can still listen to television.
And while she has few family members to visit her any more, she does have a group of friends interesting enough from the local theatre scene. For many years, she was a close friend of the late Doreen Brownstone, one of the leading figures in theatre in Winnipeg for more than half a century. Besse became part of the group that would visit Doreen every week and, since Doreen passed on three years ago, the members of the group have continued to visit Besse on a weekly basis.
Features
Winnipeg author’s first novel gripping tale of romance, action and intrigue, set in 15th century Spain and Morocco
By MYRON LOVE “The Chronos of Andalucia”, a novel just released by first-time author Merom Toledano, is a historical romance set in late 15th century Spain and Morocco, filled with passion, action, intrigue, unexpected twists and turns – and, of course, with the requirement of any medieval story – a quest.
The easy-to-read, 190 page book follows the adventures of Catalina, a young woman living by her wits on the streets of Granada in the year 1487, (just after the Christian armies of Ferdinand and Isabella had recaptured all of Spain from the Moors) – while trying to evade the agents of the Inquisition, who had murdered her Jewish mother and Christian father 10 years earlier. She was left with an insatiable desire to learn about astronomy, along with a mysterious map and an astrolabe (an instrument formerly used to make astronomical measurements) – the importance of which will only be unveiled if she can get to the city of Tangier in Morocco.
Early on, there is a reference to Abraham Zacuto, a prominent Spanish rabbi famed for his knowledge of astronomy and astrology.
The action begins when she has a casual interaction with a former Spanish soldier, Diego. When the forces of the Inquisition approach, she flees with the soldier – who is also her love interest – and who helps her to escape. They turn for help to a childhood friend of Catalina’s – Roberta, a nun, who helps them on their perilous journey to Tangier – a journey that includes being captured by pirates, surviving a shipwreck, being separated for a long period of time and, of course, finding each other again and realizing the success of their joint quest.
In his writing, the author paints vivid word pictures of the different characters and beautifully invokes the colour, sights, sounds and scents of the time and the places.
What I found truly remarkable about the writing of “The Chronos of Andalucia” is that English is not Merom Toledano’s first language. The Israeli-born author – he grew up near Haifa – came to Winnipeg with his young family just eight years ago.
“I have had this book in mind for several years now,” says the satellite engineer whose working career takes him to many different parts of the world.
He notes that he has always felt a connection to Spain, Spanish music and literature – a reflection of his family’s modern origins in that country. His great-grandparents, he relates, lived in Toledo – hence the family name, Toledano. His parents lived in Meknes in Morocco while his father attended university in Tangier before making aliyah.
Toledano just published “The Chronos of Andalucia” in April on Amazon. He reports that the book – which is available here at McNally Robinson – has been selling well –close to 100 copies – with orders coming from a bookstore chain in England, a bookstore in Denmark, and one in Italy.
“I have had between 30 and 40 positive reviews so far,” he reports.
Toledano adds that he envisages “The Chronos of Andalucia” to be the first in a series – a la the writer Danielle Steele. He is already working on a sequel – which is hinted at the end of “The Chronos” and, he reports, he is establishing his own independent publishing operation.