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The real Jewish history behind Netflix’s ‘Transatlantic’ and the WWII rescue mission that inspired it
(JTA) — While the United States swung its door shut to most refugees during World War II, a young American in France saved thousands, including some of the 20th century’s defining artists and thinkers — such as Marc Chagall and Hannah Arendt — from the Nazis.
The rescue mission of Varian Fry, which went largely unrecognized during his life, is the subject of Netflix’s new drama “Transatlantic,” launching Friday from “Unorthodox” creator Anna Winger.
Starring Cory Michael Smith as Fry, the seven-episode “Transatlantic” aims to recreate his operation in Marseille after the Nazis defeated France and before the United States entered the war. Winger has injected several imagined romances, war efforts and characters into the fictionalized series, including one posed as Fry’s lover, named Thomas Lovegrove (played by Israeli Amit Rahav). Although Fry’s son has said that he was a “closeted homosexual,” no such person is known to have existed.
Winger believes these inventions will invite Netflix viewers to learn more about the true story.
“The people who lived through these stories are dying out,” she told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “My job is to bring this to a wide audience, to people who don’t know anything about it.”
The story behind the series
The real Varian Fry, a 32-year-old journalist and suit-clad Harvard graduate, showed up in Marseille with $3,000 taped to his leg and a list of 200 names in August 1940.
After France surrendered to Germany, Fry was among 200 Americans — including journalists, artists, museum curators, university presidents and Jewish refugees — to create the Emergency Rescue Committee at the Hotel Commodore in New York. This group was concerned with Article 19 in France’s armistice with Germany, which required French authorities to surrender any individuals demanded by the Germans.
The private relief organization drew up frenzied lists of anti-Nazi intellectuals who were trapped in France. With the help of first lady Eleanor Roosevelt, the ERC obtained some emergency visas and sent Fry to lead the rescue efforts in Marseille, a port city in the southern, unoccupied part of France.
What he found there was impossible to manage alone. His mission began in his room at the Hotel Splendide, where long lines of refugees waited in the morning before he woke up and at night after he went to bed. They sometimes walked straight into his bedroom without knocking, Fry wrote in a letter to his wife shortly after he arrived.
Gathering a small devoted staff, including Frenchmen, refugees and American expatriates, Fry moved his office to Rue Grignan and later Boulevard Garibaldi. Outside of Marseille he rented the Villa Air-Bel — colorfully recreated in “Transatlantic” — to house eminent writers and eccentric Surrealist artists waiting for visas.
The group developed legal and illegal branches, with the cover organization offering humanitarian relief while a behind-the-scenes operation flouted the law to help refugees escape. Using Marseille’s lively black market, the staff found hiding places, forged documents and bribed officials. Bil Spira, a Jewish Austrian-born cartoonist, forged passports for the ERC. (He was caught and deported to Auschwitz, but survived.) Resistance fighters Hans and Lisa Fittko devised an escape route to Spain, guiding refugees across the Pyrenees mountains on foot.
By the time he was forced out in October 1941, Fry’s shoestring operation had enabled 2,000 Jewish and other anti-Nazi refugees to flee Europe, including such towering artists as Chagall, Max Ernst and Marcel Duchamp, and intellects such as Arendt, Heinrich Mann and André Breton. It has been estimated that 20,000 refugees made contact with the rescue center in Marseille.
Fry’s illegal efforts made him plenty of enemies from his own country, who accused him of interfering with American neutrality in the war. He angered the state department, officials at the American consulate in Marseille and ERC members in New York. In August 1941, he was arrested by Vichy police and sent back to New York.
Fry died in 1967 at the age of 59. Only a few months earlier, he had received the Croix de Chevalier de la Legion d’Honneur, France’s highest decoration of merit — and the only official recognition in his lifetime. In 1994, he became the first American honored by Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust memorial and history authority, as Righteous Among the Nations.
The Emergency Rescue Committee merged with another relief organization and became the International Rescue Committee in 1942. It is still in operation today and currently led by a Jewish CEO, former British politician David Miliband.
What’s in the show, and why some are against it
Some of Fry’s colleagues are fictionalized in “Transatlantic,” including the Jewish Berliner Albert Hirschman (Lucas Englander), who would become an economist in the United States; the Chicago heiress Mary Jayne Gold (Gillian Jacobs); and the Jewish Austro-Hungarian activist Lisa Fittko (Deleila Piasko). American diplomat Hiram Bigham, who gave Fry crucial help and even hid writer Lion Feuchtwanger in his home, is also a character in the show.
Throughout the seven episodes, rescue missions swirl around a series of fictional love affairs. In addition to Fry’s relationship, a triangle unfolds between Hirschman, Gold and the fictional American Consul Graham Patterson. (There is no evidence that Gold romanced either with her comrade or with any American consul in Marseille.) Lisa Fittko has an affair with the fictional character Paul Kandjo, who organizes armed resistance to Vichy.
Gillian Jacobs as heiress Mary Jayne Gold. (Anika Molnar/Netflix)
Several wartime plot points are also invented, including a prison break at Camp de Mille and Gold’s collaboration with British intelligence.
The degree of fictionalization has angered some people close to the real history. Pierre Sauvage, president of the Varian Fry Institute, called the show’s trailer “shocking.” Born in 1944, Sauvage survived the end of the Holocaust in the French village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, although his Jewish parents were turned down by Fry’s overwhelmed committee. He became close friends with some of Fry’s fellow rescuers in their later years, including the late Gold, Hirschman and Fittko.
“Are there any red lines?” he said. “Can one fictionalize at will, with no concern for the reality of the story, for the false impression that people will get — and for the way it affects the private lives of the families of people portrayed?”
Sheila Isenberg, who documented Fry’s operation in her book “A Hero of Our Own,” has described the series as a “travesty.” Thomas Fischer Weiss, a child survivor who attempted Fry’s escape route through the Pyrenees at 5 years old, also said the historical events needed no embellishment.
“I think you should tell it straight,” he told the JTA.
The legacy of the ‘troublemakers’
Sauvage believes that if Fry and his associates were alive today, they would like to be remembered for their convictions.
“These were people who were sort of in your face,” he said. “People who knew clearly what they felt and expressed it. They would often describe themselves as troublemakers. Mary Jayne [Gold] said about Varian that he was an ‘ornery cuss’ — it took orneriness to stick to your guns.”
That orneriness was critical at a time when many Americans were apathetic to the plight of European Jews — a 1938 poll in Fortune magazine found that fewer than 5% believed the United States should raise its immigration quotas for refugees. By the summer of 1941, it was too late to open the doors. The German policy of expelling Jews had changed into extermination.
According to Sauvage, America’s refusal to accept more refugees had something to do with that shift.
“The Nazis could legitimately come to the conclusion that the world wouldn’t do anything about the murders and wouldn’t really care all that much,” he said. “What the Varian Fry mission symbolizes is people who cared.”
Varian Fry with Miriam Davenport in the first offices of the Centre Américain de Secours in Marseille in 1940. Davenport, a friend of Mary Jayne Gold, also worked in the rescue effort but is omitted from “Transatlantic.” (Varian Fry Institute)
After their year in Marseille, the rescuers settled into more ordinary lives. Hirschman became an economist with appointments at Yale, Columbia and Harvard. Lisa Fittko ended up in Chicago, where she worked hard in import-export, translation and clerical jobs to earn money, eventually joining protests against the Vietnam War. Gold divided her time between New York City and a villa on the French Riviera.
They all remembered the rescue mission as their finest hour. Speaking with Sauvage, Gold called that year “the only one in her life that really mattered.”
A refugee story for troubled times
Fry’s rescue mission inspired Julie Orringer to write “The Flight Portfolio,” a 2019 novel that became the basis for “Transatlantic.” Orringer was captivated by the image of a young man arriving in Marseille, idealistic and unprepared for the depth of anguish he would find.
“The task was way too big,” she told the JTA. “He realized quite early on that he was going to ask for help, that he was going to have to turn to others who had deeper experience. And in collecting this group of incredible individuals around him, he assembled a kind of collective mind that really could make a difference under the very difficult circumstances that he faced.”
She believed that Fry left an example for the inexperienced. “If you‘re the kind of person who wants to take action on behalf of refugees, but doesn’t know how to do it, ask for help,” she said.
Winger, a Jewish Massachusetts native who has lived in Berlin for two decades, conceived of making a series about Fry in 2015. Germany saw an influx of more than a million migrants that year, most of them fleeing Syria’s horrific civil war. She optioned Orringer’s book in 2020.
“I thought a lot about the fact that people like us — artists, Jews, both — had to leave Berlin as refugees, but now there were so many people coming to Berlin as refugees,” said Winger.
Then, just as she started filming “Transatlantic” on location in Marseille, a new war broke out in Europe.
“The war in Ukraine started three days into the production and there was a whole other wave of refugees coming to Berlin,” she said. “Suddenly we were making it in another refugee crisis.”
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine hit close to the show, whose cast and crew hail from across the continent. Winger’s cinematographer is married to a Ukrainian woman. In Berlin, she saw thousands of refugees crowding into the central train station, some without shoes, food or plans for shelter.
“I think it gave us all a strong sense of purpose,” said Winger.
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The post The real Jewish history behind Netflix’s ‘Transatlantic’ and the WWII rescue mission that inspired it appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Boulder hostage-march firebombing suspect to plead guilty to state charges
(JTA) — The man charged with firebombing a Boulder, Colorado, march for Israeli hostages in 2025 will plead guilty to killing one person and attempting to kill others in the incident, according to documents filed in the case over the weekend.
Mohamed Sabry Soliman, who was arrested at the scene of the June 1, 2025, attack, is asking for his ex-wife and children to be able to remain in the United States as a condition of his guilty plea, according to the documents.
His ex-wife and five children, like him all Egyptian nationals who came to the United States in 2022 via Kuwait, were arrested by immigration authorities shortly after the attack. They were detained until Thursday, when they were released from a detention center in Texas, then briefly detained again on Saturday in Boulder and, their attorneys say, put onto a plane bound for Egypt before being freed once again. His ex-wife, whom he divorced in April, has not been charged with a crime and said she did not know about Soliman’s planned attack.
Soliman is reportedly pleading guilty to all state charges but still faces federal charges in relation to the attack, which he allegedly said he staged to “wanted to kill all Zionist people and wished they were all dead,” according to an earlier court filing. He has previously pleaded not guilty to the federal charges, for which prosecutors could seek the death penalty.
Thirteen people were physically injured in the attack, which took place on a pedestrian mall in downtown Boulder where supporters of the Israelis then held hostage in Gaza marched weekly. One, 82-year-old Karen Diamond, died weeks later of her injuries.
The post Boulder hostage-march firebombing suspect to plead guilty to state charges appeared first on The Forward.
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Her body has been unidentified for decades. Her Ashkenazi DNA may explain why
Murder investigators in Arizona are encountering a stubborn obstacle to solving a decades-old cold case involving an unidentified dead body: The woman’s Ashkenazi Jewish DNA.
In 1989, an unclothed dead body was found on the side of a highway in northwest Arizona. The woman was never identified, though small details offered clues about her life: red nail polish on her fingers and toes, faux diamond stud earrings, and a handmade floral blouse found under a nearby tree.
The woman appeared to have been beaten, found with a broken nose and possible hematoma on the left side of her skull, though the medical examiner did not determine a cause of death. An autopsy determined the woman was between 25 and 30 years old.
In 2021, authorities reopened the case and uploaded the woman’s DNA profile to genetic databases available to law enforcement, hoping for a breakthrough. Instead, they hit a wall.
“Investigators learned that the victim was 96% Ashkenazi Jew, which made it extremely difficult to trace her ancestry and locate family members,” the Mohave County Sheriff’s Office said in a statement.
Ashkenazi Jews who try to track down relatives through genetic testing are familiar with the problem that the sheriff encountered: DNA testing, usually a powerful tool for finding relatives, often does not yield usable results for them.
Adina Newman, a professional genealogist and co-founder of the Holocaust Reunion Project, which uses DNA testing to help connect Holocaust survivors and their relatives to lost family, says two factors explain why genetic testing has limited use for many Jews. One is what’s known as the founder effect, when a population can be traced back to a small number of ancestors — as few as 350 people in Ashkenazi Jews’ case. The other is endogamy, the practice of marrying within a community over many generations.
As a result, a person with 100% Ashkenazi DNA can have more than 200,000 DNA matches in popular genetic databases, according to Newman. From such a large pool, it can be difficult to pinpoint close relatives.
“Ashkenazi Jews are all DNA cousins. But am I going to find it meaningful in a [family] tree?” Newman said. “Mostly no. We’ve just kind of accepted that it convolutes things.”
Investigators, however, aren’t giving up. The Mohave County Sheriff’s Office enlisted the help of the Investigative Genetic Genealogy Center at Ramapo College in New Jersey, which last week released an artistic rendering of what the woman may have looked like based on her remains.
“This doesn’t mean that cases of Ashkenazi Jews are impossible to solve,” David Gurney, director of the Investigative Genetic Genealogy Center, told the Forward. “It just is going to take a lot more effort.”
Jewish Jane Does
The 1989 case in Arizona is not the only time Ashkenazi DNA has posed a challenge in identifying remains. Another active case, an Ashkenazi Jewish woman whose dead body was found in 1981 in Olympia, Washington, remains unsolved.
Other cases have taken years to crack. In 2024, investigators working with the DNA Doe Project finally identified the body of a Jewish woman found murdered in a California vineyard in 2011 as Ada Beth Kaplan. It also took more than a decade to identify Mitchell Mendelson, a Jewish man whose body was found in a wooded area near his home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania in 2012.
In both cases, the deceased’s Ashkenazi DNA made the process more laborious for investigators, though DNA also eventually led investigators to be able to make the identifications.
To be sure, Ashkenazi Jews are not the only population that exhibits endogamy, which is also common among Pennsylvania Dutch communities, Icelanders, French Canadians and other tight-knit societies.
But the combination of Ashkenazi Jews’ genetic overlap and a complex historical record can make Jewish identification especially difficult cases to crack, Newman said.
For instance, in Newman’s own family, records changed from listing Vilna as being located in Russia, then Poland, then Belarus over a short period of time. But her family members hadn’t moved; the borders were changing around them. Last names in her family were also altered to sound more anglicized.
“You have to know these things. And it’s hard because a lot of genetic genealogists, even the best ones, are not familiar with that,” Newman said, “They need people who understand the Jewish genealogy aspect.”
Even when genealogists have such expertise, limited data can slow progress. Lingering trauma from the Holocaust has made some Jews hesitant to upload their DNA to public databases, Newman said.
Others have privacy concerns: In 2024, 23andMe settled a class-action lawsuit for $30 million in which customers accused the company of failing to notify customers with Ashkenazi Jewish heritage that they appeared to have been specifically targeted by hackers, who sold their information on the dark web.
Yet unless they have a search warrant, law enforcement agencies are constrained to cross-referencing DNA profiles with just two databases: GEDmatch and FamilyTreeDNA, which collectively host about 3 million profiles. By contrast, Ancestry.com has more than 29 million DNA profiles, according to its website, and 23andMe has roughly 15 million.
Ancestry.com and 23andMe users who wish to make their profile visible to researchers can upload their information to GEDMatch or FamilyTreeDNA for free.
“We always depend on members of the public taking consumer genetic genealogy tests to solve any case,” Gurney said. “That’s even more important in cases of endogamy here.”
Those challenges compelled Rabbi Mendel Super, who leads Chabad of Lake Havasu City in Mojave County, Arizona — about an hour’s drive away from where the woman’s body was found in 1989 — to spread the word about the case in the Jewish community. After Super learned of the woman’s Jewish ancestry, he contacted the local sheriff’s department to offer his help.
He’s since connected authorities with experts in Jewish genealogy and is publicizing the case on social media, hoping his Jewish network can help identify a relative.
“There’s millions of people who it could be, but there’s only a few million Jews in the world, and fewer in this country,” Super told the Forward. “So I think there’s got to be someone who knows something.”
Newman, too, sees broader participation as key. She encourages Jews to share their DNA profiles, noting that researchers view far less information than many expect — just the amount of shared DNA needed to construct family trees, not a complete genetic profile. People can even upload DNA profiles anonymously, she said, giving researchers the option to contact them only if there’s a notable match.
“These people deserve dignity, to have their names,” Newman said. “It could really be you, especially in the Jewish community. You could be the one that helps solve the case and gives us her name back.”
The post Her body has been unidentified for decades. Her Ashkenazi DNA may explain why appeared first on The Forward.
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Israeli Restaurant Owned by Syrian Repeatedly Attacked in Germany
Illustrative: Graffiti reading “Kill All Jews” was discovered on a residential building in Berlin-Pankow on April 26, 2026, part of a wave of antisemitic vandalism reported across the German capital over the past week, including swastikas and other hate-filled slogans scrawled on multiple sites. Photo: Screenshot
An Israeli restaurant in Germany has been repeatedly attacked while its Syrian Kurdish owner has been subjected to relentless harassment, underscoring a broader climate of hostility faced by Jews and Israelis across the country.
Restaurant owner Billal Aloge, a Muslim from Syria, has been subjected to escalating hatred and violence after publicly expressing support for Jewish life in his city by opening restaurants aimed at fostering dialogue and coexistence.
Shortly after opening his Israeli restaurant “Jaffa” in Freiburg, a city in western Germany, Aloge faced immediate hostility and a wave of online abuse.
Even after filing multiple police reports, the harassment did not stop, with unknown individuals continuing to target the restaurant. This included incidents of vandalism such as throwing rotten eggs at the premises, prompting the owner to repeatedly seek police intervention.
Then last Tuesday, the restaurant’s newly deployed food truck was vandalized after being parked for just a single day in Colombipark in the heart of the university town, according to German media.
The food truck was extensively damagd, with paint thrown across its exterior, Israeli symbols defaced with Palestinian flag stickers and antisemitic slogans, and its door kicked so forcefully that it was left visibly dented.
Three days later, Aloge and his wife were preparing to open the food truck for Labor Day, when they discovered a broken side mirror.
“The food truck was brand new. I bought it for the new season and had it lovingly refurbished,” Aloge told the German newspaper Bild.
“Once again, I had to file a police report and now I estimate the total damage from the two attacks at approximately 30,000 euros,” he continued.
Freiburg Mayor Martin Horn strongly condemned the attacks, stressing that the city would not tolerate such acts of hatred and would take them seriously, with full efforts to ensure accountability and protection for those targeted.
“There is no place in Freiburg for antisemitism, anti-Muslim racism, or any other form of hatred and incitement,” the German official said in a statement.
Like most countries across Europe and the broader Western world, Germany has seen a shocking rise in antisemitic incidents over the last two years, in the wake of the Hamas-led invasion of and massacre across southern Israel on Oct. 7, 2023.
According to recently released figures, the number of antisemitic offenses in the capital city Berlin reached a record high in 2025, totaling 2,267 incidents, including violence, incitement, property damage, and propaganda offenses.
By comparison, officially recorded antisemitic crimes were significantly lower at 1,825 in 2024, 900 in 2023, and fewer than 500 in 2022, prior to the Oct. 7 atrocities.
Officials warn that the real number of antisemitic crimes is likely much higher, as many incidents go unreported.
In one of the latest antisemitic incidents in the country, a synagogue in Cottbus, a city in eastern Germany, was defaced with a swastika painted on its facade, marking the second time in just four days that the Jewish house of worship had been vandalized.
Separately, authorities also discovered antisemitic graffiti across several apartment buildings in Berlin-Pankow, including messages reading “Kill all Jews,” a swastika, and the statement “Only a dead Jew is a good Jew,” in a series of disturbing incidents over the week.