Features
“The S.S. Officer’s Armchair” opens up an almost totally unknown aspect of Nazi history
“The S.S. Officer’s Armchair – Uncovering the Hidden Life of a Nazi”
By Daniel Lee Published 2020 Available on Amazon
Reviewed by BERNIE BELLAN
In 2011 a British historian by the name of Daniel Lee had just completed his PhD in history “that examined the experiences of Jews in Vichy France.”
Lee is Jewish – and, as he explains during the course of his fascinating new book, “The S.S. Officer’s Armchair”, his family, originally from Poland, lost several relatives during the Holocaust.
But, simply by accident, in 2011 he was introduced to a young woman at a dinner party he was hosting in Florence, which was where he was living at the time. That chance encounter led to Lee’s going down a rabbit hole that took him all over Europe – and to the Unites\d States as well, in search of answers to a mystery that was unveiled to him at that party.
What happened is the young woman, who had heard that Lee was a historian of the Second World War, asked him whether he might be interested in examining some documents that her mother, who was living in Amsterdam, had discovered had been hidden in the cushion of an armchair that she had owned for years – ever since she herself was a young student in Prague.
The documents evidently belonged to someone by the name of Robert Griesinger who, as evidenced by all the swastikas imprinted on the documents, must have been some sort of a functionary in the Nazi regime.
Naturally, Lee was fascinated by the story he heard. He proceeded to Amsterdam to interview the woman’s mother and to examine the documents for himself. That initial journey led to Lee’s dogged pursuit of one clue after another as to the background of Robert Griesinger – and the eventual discovery that Griesinger was a member of the SS (also the Gestapo), who was very likely involved in atrocities during the war.
But, what set Griesinger apart from other Nazis whose crimes have been the subjects of lengthy investigations, however, was that he was not at all a notable member of any of the organizations to which he belonged. He was actually a lawyer by training, but as Lee shows, he wasn’t a particularly good one; in fact, his entire life can
be said to be noteworthy not because of anything exceptional he did, rather because his achievements can be described fairly as having been so mediocre.
What compelled Lee to spend years tracing the life of such an unimportant figure? As he explains early on, “The famous fanatics and murderers could not have existed without the countless enablers who kept the government running, filed the paperwork, and lived side-by-side with potential victims of the regime in whom they instilled fear and the threat of violence.”
At the same time Lee’s comprehensive investigation of Griesinger’s life adds to the body of knowledge that other historians, especially Daniel Goldhagen, in his “Hitler’s Willing Executioners”, have developed in showing not just how thoroughly aware most Germans were of the atrocities that were being committed by the Nazis, they were, if not actively supporting the Nazis, complicit in not objecting to what was so clearly happening.
It was the active and willing participation of hundreds of thousands of low-level functionaries working for the Nazi state that allowed the machinery of the regime to function. As Lee also notes, “The narrative I trace will show how low-ranking officials might have existed in between two disconnected worlds; the first filled with the regime’s well-known high functionaries, and the second that comprised the ordinary German population.”
How Lee goes about his tireless pursuit of leads that begin to fill out the mystery of those documents in the armchair forms the basis of a first-rate mystery novel, let alone a non-fiction work that relies on detailed footnoting – as one would expect from a professional historian.
Many of the individuals to whom Lee turns for information are either initially reluctant to speak with him or simply turn him down outright, but in time he is able to interview sufficient members of Griesinger’s surviving family members to arrive at a thorough knowledge of Griesinger’s life, from birth almost to death. It would be impossible to know the exact circumstances of Griesinger’s death in 1945 in Prague, as Lee explains, since following the defeat of the Nazis at the hands of the Russians, aided by Czech rebels, the tables were quickly turned on whatever Germans were living in Prague at that time and they were subjected to much the same atrocities that Nazis had perpetrated on so many Czechs for years.
But, in true mystery style, Lee does uncover some quite fascinating information about Lee’s probable death from dysentery – again, from a most unlikely source.
In researching his book Lee decided to go back as far as he could in sourcing Griesinger’s familial roots. To his surprise, he learns that Griesinger’s father was actually born in New Orleans, which is to where Griesinger’s grandfather had emigrated in the 19th century.
The American connection proves highly important to understanding not only Griesinger’s racist attitudes, also the attitudes of many other Germans, it turns out. As Lee uncovers information about German immigration to the deep south of the U.S., he learns that many Germans were involved in the slave trade – and when many Germans returned to Germany (as was the case in the 1870s when the U.S. was in the grip of a severe economic depression), they brought back those racist ideas with them.
Griesinger came from an upper class background, moreover, in which anti-Semitic attitudes, in addition to racist attitudes toward Blacks, were also typically deeply engrained. Much has already been written about how could such a sophisticated culture as was Germany’s have produced such abhorrently racist ideas, but in “The SS Officer’s Armchair,” Lee is able to probe the thinking of specific individuals in Griesinger’s family to show how relatively easy it was for Hitler’s racism to be commonly accepted within the German upper and middle upper classes.
One character in particular, Robert Griesinger’s mother, “Wally”, proves to be an invaluable source for Lee, as he comes across a detailed diary that Wally had kept from the time she was a young girl throughout her life and during the Second World War. The resentment that Wally exhibits towards those who “betrayed” Germany during the First World War, which was one of Hitler’s paramount themes in engendering support for his racist platform, helps put a clear understanding how Hitler was able to go from being a marginal figure eventually to the unquestioned ruler of the German Reich.
Griesinger’s family lived in Stuttgart, which is located in south-west Germany. Robert Griesinger’s home is now owned by Jochen Griesinger, a nephew of Robert’s who, it turns out, is not on speaking terms with either of Griesinger’s daughters, Barbara and Jutta. Jochen, however, was quite willing to talk to David Lee – and to show him around the house.
In the course of his investigation Lee discovers that two of Robert Griesinger’s next-door neighbours in Stuttgart, Helene and Fritz Rothschild, were Jewish. The Rothschilds were able to escape to Paris and survived the war. Almost all the other Jews in Stuggart were not so lucky.
Robert Griesinger was an unexceptional student. Given the German well-known propensity for record-keeping, Lee is able to find reports on Griesinger’s educational career from his earliest days at school throughout his period at Tubingen University. Remarkably Griesinger was able to obtain a doctorate in law but, disappointingly for him, the most he was able to do with that degree was teach agricultural law at a rural agricultural college.
There is no particular indication from anything that Lee is able to uncover that Griesinger was an early follower of National Socialism. But, as was the case with so many other of his peers, Griesinger saw the opportunity to career advancement by joining the party.
Eventually Griesinger became a member of both the Gestapo (secret police) and the SS (strike force). Although Lee is not able to produce any documentation to show that Griesinger was involved first hand in either the torture or murder of anyone, he is able to deduce from various records that, even if he wasn’t directly involved in any specific activities of that sort, he was at the scene where those activities took place.
In particular, while working for the Gestapo (as a lawyer), Griesinger’s place of work in Stuttgart was the Hotel Silber, which was used by the Gestapo to detain and torture individuals. Lee surmises that Griesinger, whose office was situated directly over the basement of the hotel, would have had to have heard the screams of the torture victims.
Later, during the actual war, Griesinger served for a time on the Eastern Front, in Ukraine, where he was eventually wounded and sent back to Stuttgart for rehabilitation. But, during Griesinger’s period of service in Ukraine, his Wehrmacht unit was stationed outside Kiev, and he was in service at the time 30,000 Jews were murdered at Babi Yar over a two-day period, which was the worst massacre of Jews to that date (later to be surpassed by other massacres in Odessa and Poland).
Griesinger had long wanted to be posted to Prague during the war, as Prague was seen as a haven of tranquility for Germans living there. In 1943 he got his wish and he was able to move his wife Gisela, his two daughters, and a stepson from a previous marriage of his wife, to Prague, where they were mostly spared the deprivations that ordinary Germans were suffering throughout Germany as the result of heavy Allied bombing.
While in Prague, Lee is able to piece together Griesinger’s duties, which involved the arrest and deportation of thousands of individuals, both Jews and non-Jews. His principal duty was to arrange for the shipment of Czechs to be used as slave labourers in German factories and mines. Griesinger was also responsible for the confiscation of Czech factories from their rightful owners – always done with the imprimatur of official Nazi regulations.
As Lee works his way through an ongoing series of visits to repositories of archives and interviews with anyone who might have some knowledge of Griesinger’s life, he is able to put together an amazingly detailed description of what life would have been like for Griesinger.
Considering that he was still conducting interviews as recently as 2018 the fact that he has produced such a compelling read is testament to his skill as not just a historian, but a very talented writer who was able to work quickly, as well.
Toward the end of his book Lee revisits his motivation in wanting to go to such extraordinary lengths to describe the life of a “faceless bureaucrat”: “This book shows that it is possible to trace the life of one of those ordinary Nazis whose role in war and genocide seems to have vanished from the historical record. Returning texture and agency to one such perpetrator affords Griesinger the opportunity to stand in for the thousands of anonymous ordinary Nazis whose widespread culpability wreaked havoc on so many lives and whose biographies have, until now, never seen the light of day.”
In looking at some of the reviews posted by readers on Amazon, there is a consistent theme of gratitude expressed to Lee for opening up a door to a part of history that has hitherto remained largely unknown – not because historians were disinterested in the subject; rather, they were stymied by the lack of evidence to paint the sort of detailed picture of just an “ordinary” Nazi bureaucrat that Lee has so brilliantly succeeded in doing. If it weren’t for that chance meeting at a Florence dinner party, however, this book would never have been written.
Features
So, what’s the deal with the honey scene in ‘Marty Supreme?’
By Olivia Haynie December 29, 2025 This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
There are a lot of jarring scenes in Marty Supreme, Josh Safdie’s movie about a young Jew in the 1950s willing to do anything to secure his spot in table tennis history. There’s the one where Marty (Timothée Chalamet) gets spanked with a ping-pong paddle; there’s the one where a gas station explodes. And the one where Marty, naked in a bathtub, falls through the floor of a cheap motel. But the one that everybody online seems to be talking about is a flashback of an Auschwitz story told by Marty’s friend and fellow ping-ponger Béla Kletzki (Géza Röhrig, best known for his role as a Sonderkommando in Son of Saul).
Kletzki tells the unsympathetic ink tycoon Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary) about how the Nazis, impressed by his table tennis skills, spared his life and recruited him to disarm bombs. One day, while grappling with a bomb in the woods, Kletzki stumbled across a honeycomb. He smeared the honey across his body and returned to the camp, where he let his fellow prisoners lick it off his body. The scene is a sensory nightmare, primarily shot in close-ups of wet tongues licking sticky honey off Kletzki’s hairy body. For some, it was also … funny?
Many have reported that the scene has been triggering a lot of laughter in their theaters. My audience in Wilmington, North Carolina, certainly had a good chuckle — with the exception of my mother, who instantly started sobbing. I sat in stunned silence, unsure at first what to make of the sharp turn the film had suddenly taken. One post on X that got nearly 6,000 likes admonished Safdie for his “insane Holocaust joke.” Many users replied that the scene was in no way meant to be funny, with one even calling it “the most sincere scene in the whole movie.”
For me, the scene shows the sheer desperation of those in the concentration camps, as well as the self-sacrifice that was essential to survival. And yet many have interpreted it as merely shock humor.
Laughter could be understood as an inevitable reaction to discomfort and shock at a scene that feels so out of place in what has, up to that point, been a pretty comedic film. The story is sandwiched between Marty’s humorous attempts to embarrass Rockwell and seduce his wife. Viewers may have mistaken the scene as a joke since the film’s opening credits sequence of sperm swimming through fallopian tubes gives the impression you will be watching a comedy interspersed with some tense ping-pong playing.
The reaction could also be part of what some in the movie theater industry are calling the “laugh epidemic.” In The New York Times, Marie Solis explored the inappropriate laughter in movie theaters that seems to be increasingly common. The rise of meme culture and the dissolution of clear genres (Marty Supreme could be categorized as somewhere between drama and comedy), she writes, have primed audiences to laugh at moments that may not have been meant to be funny.
The audience’s inability to process the honey scene as sincere may also be a sign of a society that has become more disconnected from the traumas of the past. It would not be the first time that people, unable to comprehend the horrors of the Holocaust, have instead derided the tales of abuse as pure fiction. But Kletzki’s story is based on the real experiences of Alojzy Ehrlich, a ping-pong player imprisoned at Auschwitz. The scene is not supposed to be humorous trauma porn — Safdie has called it a “beautiful story” about the “camaraderie” found within the camps. It also serves as an important reminder of all that Marty is fighting for.
The events of the film take place only seven years after the Holocaust, and the macabre honey imagery encapsulates the dehumanization the Jews experienced. Marty is motivated not just by a desire to prove himself as an athlete and rise above what his uncle and mother expect of him, but above what the world expects of him as a Jew. His drive to reclaim Jewish pride is further underscored when he brings back a piece of an Egyptian pyramid to his mother, telling her, “We built this.”
Without understanding this background, the honey scene will come off as out of place and ridiculous. And the lengths Marty is willing to go to to make something of himself cannot be fully appreciated. The film’s description on the review-app Letterboxd says Marty Supreme is about one man who “goes to hell and back in pursuit of greatness.” But behind Marty is the story of a whole people who have gone through hell; they too are trying to find their way back.
Olivia Haynie is an editorial fellow at the Forward.
This story was originally published on the Forward.
Features
Paghahambing ng One-on-One Matches at Multiplayer Challenges sa Pusoy in English
Ang Pusoy, na kilala din bilang Chinese Poker, ay patuloy na sumisikat sa buong mundo, kumukuha ng interes ng mga manlalaro mula sa iba’t ibang bansa. Ang mga online platforms ay nagpapadali sa pag-access nito. Ang online version nito ay lubos na nagpasigla ng interes sa mga baguhan at casual players, na nagdulot ng diskusyon kung alin ang mas madali: ang paglalaro ng Pusoy one-on-one o sa multiplayer settings.
Habang nailipat sa digital platforms ang Pusoy, napakahalaga na maunawaan ang mga format nito upang mapahusay ang karanasan sa laro. Malaking epekto ang bilang ng mga kalaban pagdating sa istilo ng laro, antas ng kahirapan, at ang ganap na gameplay dynamics. Ang mga platforms tulad ng GameZone ay nagbibigay ng angkop na espasyo para sa mga manlalaro na masubukan ang parehong one-on-one at multiplayer Pusoy, na akma para sa iba’t ibang klase ng players depende sa kanilang kasanayan at kagustuhan.
Mga Bentahe ng One-on-One Pusoy
Simpleng Gameplay
Sa one-on-one Pusoy in English, dalawa lang ang naglalaban—isang manlalaro at isang kalaban. Dahil dito, mas madali ang bawat laban. Ang pokus ng mga manlalaro ay nakatuon lamang sa kanilang sariling 13 cards at sa mga galaw ng kalaban, kaya’t nababawasan ang pagiging komplikado.
Para sa mga baguhan, ideal ang one-on-one matches upang:
- Sanayin ang tamang pagsasaayos ng cards.
- Matutunan ang tamang ranggo ng bawat kamay.
- Magsanay na maiwasan ang mag-foul sa laro.
Ang simpleng gameplay ay nagbibigay ng matibay na pundasyon para sa mas kumplikadong karanasan sa multiplayer matches.
Mga Estratehiya mula sa Pagmamasid
Sa one-on-one matches, mas madaling maunawaan ang istilo ng kalaban dahil limitado lamang ang galaw na kailangan sundan. Maaari mong obserbahan ang mga sumusunod na patterns:
- Konserbatibong pagkakaayos o agresibong strategy.
- Madalas na pagkakamali o overconfidence.
- Labis na pagtuon sa isang grupo ng cards.
Dahil dito, nagkakaroon ng pagkakataon ang mga manlalaro na isaayos ang kanilang estratehiya upang mas epektibong maka-responde sa galaw ng kalaban, partikular kung maglalaro sa competitive platforms tulad ng GameZone.
Mas Mababang Pressure
Dahil one-on-one lamang ang laban, mababawasan ang mental at emotional stress. Walang ibang kalaban na makaka-distract, na nagbibigay ng pagkakataon para sa mga baguhan na matuto nang walang matinding parusa sa kanilang mga pagkakamali. Nagiging stepping stone ito patungo sa mas dynamic na multiplayer matches.
Ang Hamon ng Multiplayer Pusoy
Mas Komplikado at Mas Malalim na Gameplay
Sa Multiplayer Pusoy, madaragdagan ang bilang ng kalaban, kaya mas nagiging komplikado ang laro. Kailangan kalkulahin ng bawat manlalaro ang galaw ng maraming tao at ang pagkakaayos nila ng cards.
Ang ilang hamon ng multiplayer ay:
- Pagbabalanse ng lakas ng cards sa tatlong grupo.
- Pag-iwas sa labis na peligro habang nagiging kompetitibo.
- Pagtatagumpayan ang lahat ng kalaban nang sabay-sabay.
Ang ganitong klase ng gameplay ay nangangailangan ng maingat na pagpaplano, prediksyon, at strategic na pasensiya.
Mas Malakas na Mental Pressure
Mas mataas ang psychological demand sa multiplayer, dahil mabilis ang galawan at mas mahirap manatiling kalmado sa gitna ng mas maraming kalaban. Kabilang dito ang:
- Bilisan ang pagdedesisyon kahit under pressure.
- Paano mananatiling focused sa gitna ng mga distractions.
- Pagkakaroon ng emosyonal na kontrol matapos ang sunod-sunod na talo.
Mas exciting ito para sa mga manlalarong gusto ng matinding hamon at pagmamalasakit sa estratehiya.
GameZone: Ang Bagong Tahanan ng Modern Pusoy
Ang GameZone online ay isang kahanga-hangang platform para sa mga naglalaro ng Pusoy in English. Nagbibigay ito ng opsyon para sa parehong one-on-one at multiplayer matches, akma para sa kahit anong antas ng kasanayan.
Mga feature ng GameZone:
- Madaling English interface para sa user-friendly na gameplay.
- Real-player matches imbes na kalaban ay bots.
- Mga tool para sa responsible play, tulad ng time reminder at spending limits.
Pagtatagal ng Pamanang Pusoy
Ang Pusoy card game in English ay nagpalawak ng abot nito sa mas maraming players mula sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng mundo habang pinapanatili ang tradisyunal nitong charm. Sa pamamagitan ng mga modernong platform tulad ng GameZone, mananatiling buhay at progresibo ang Pusoy, nakakabighani pa rin sa lahat ng antas ng manlalaro—mula sa casual enjoyment hanggang sa competitive challenges.
Mula sa maingat na pag-aayos ng mga cards hanggang sa pag-master ng estratehiya, ang Pusoy ay isang laro na nananatiling relevant habang ipinapakita ang masalimuot nitong gameplay dynamics na puno ng kultura at inobasyon.
Features
Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers.
Can men and women just be friends? Can you be in the revenge business too long? Why don’t you just make 10 louder and have that be the top number on your amp?
All are questions Rob Reiner sought to answer. In the wake of his and his wife’s unexpected deaths, which are being investigated as homicides, it’s hard not to reel with questions of our own: How could someone so beloved come to such a senseless end? How can we account for such a staggering loss to the culture when it came so prematurely? How can we juggle that grief and our horror over the violent murder of Jews at an Australian beach, gathered to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah, and still light candles of our own?
The act of asking may be a way forward, just as Rob Reiner first emerged from sitcom stardom by making inquiries.
In This is Spinal Tap, his first feature, he played the role of Marty DiBergi, the in-universe director of the documentary about the misbegotten 1982 U.S. concert tour of the eponymous metal band. He was, in a sense, culminating the work of his father, Carl Reiner, who launched a classic comedy record as the interviewer of Mel Brooks’ 2,000 Year Old Man. DiBergi as played by Reiner was a reverential interlocutor — one might say a fanboy — but he did take time to query Nigel Tufnell as to why his amp went to 11. And, quoting a bad review, he asked “What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap, and couldn’t he have rested on that day too?”
But Reiner had larger questions to mull over. And in this capacity — not just his iconic scene at Katz’s Deli in When Harry Met Sally or the goblin Yiddishkeit of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride — he was a fundamentally Jewish director.
Stand By Me is a poignant meditation on death through the eyes of childhood — it asks what we remember and how those early experiences shape us. The Princess Bride is a storybook consideration of love — it wonders at the price of seeking or avenging it at all costs. A Few Good Men is a trenchant, cynical-for-Aaron Sorkin, inquest of abuse in the military — how can it happen in an atmosphere of discipline.
In his public life, Reiner was an activist. He asked how he could end cigarette smoking. He asked why gay couples couldn’t marry like straight ones. He asked what Russia may have had on President Trump. This fall, with the FCC’s crackdown on Jimmy Kimmel, he asked if he would soon be censored. He led with the Jewish question of how the world might be repaired.
Guttingly, in perhaps his most personal project, 2015’s Being Charlie, co-written by his son Nick he wondered how a parent can help a child struggling with addiction. (Nick was questioned by the LAPD concerning his parents’ deaths and was placed under arrest.)
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None of the questions had pat answers. Taken together, there’s scarcely a part of life that Reiner’s filmography overlooked, including the best way to end it, in 2007’s The Bucket List.
Judging by the longevity of his parents, both of whom lived into their 90s, it’s entirely possible Reiner had much more to ask of the world. That we won’t get to see another film by him, or spot him on the news weighing in on the latest democratic aberration, is hard to swallow.
Yet there is some small comfort in the note Reiner went out on. In October, he unveiled Spinal Tap II: The Beginning of the End, a valedictory moment in a long and celebrated career.
Reiner once again returned to the role of DiBergi. I saw a special prescreening with a live Q&A after the film. It was the day Charlie Kirk was assassinated. I half-expected Reiner to break character and address political violence — his previous film, God & Country, was a documentary on Christian Nationalism.
But Reiner never showed up — only Marty DiBergi, sitting with Nigel Tuffnell (Christopher Guest), David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) at Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Los Angeles. The interview was broadcast to theaters across the country, with viewer-submitted questions like “What, in fact, did the glove from Smell the Glove smell like?” (Minty.) And “Who was the inspiration for ‘Big Bottom?’” (Della Reese.)
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DiBergi had one question for the audience: “How did you feel about the film?”
The applause was rapturous, but DiBergi still couldn’t get over Nigel Tuffnell’s Marshall amp, which now stretched beyond 11 and into infinity.
“How can that be?” he asked. “How can you go to infinity? How loud is that?”
There’s no limit, Tuffnell assured him. “Why should there be a limit?”
Reiner, an artist of boundless curiosity and humanity, was limitless. His remit was to reason why. He’ll be impossible to replace, but in asking difficult questions, we can honor him.
The post Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers. appeared first on The Forward.