Acknowledgments
The special joy of writing a research-based book lies in contact with the impressive scholars who have devoted much of their professional lives to the subject. Again and again, I was the lucky recipient of generous advice and guidance from Othmar Plöckinger in Salzburg; Paul Hoser and Christian Hartmann in Munich; Jeffrey Herf in Maryland; and Alan E. Steinweis in both Vermont and Munich. At the same time, I benefited from the contribution to my understanding of German politics and history over many years from Robert Gerald Livingston, Jackson Janes, and Jeremiah Riemer. Other scholars and experts who willingly gave of their time and experience were Roman Töppel, Reinhard Weber, David Clay Large, Christoph Safferling, Dan Michman, and Jakob Zollmann.
Laurence Latourette and Jonathan M. Weisgall, exceptionally thoughtful men with writerly minds, read my manuscript and were more than generous with counsel and encouragement.
Underlying it all are my rich friendships with some of Germany’s best writers and journalists: Claus Christian Malzahn, Gabor Steingart, Clemens Wergin, Gregor Peter Schmitz, and Henryk Broder. Thanks to Schmitz, I also had the benefit of research talent at Der Spiegel in the hot pursuit of elusive documents, includingHauke Janssen and Conny Neumann. Munich photographer Wolfgang Weber added useful details to the sought-after story.
A special case among these supportive colleagues is Michael S. Cullen, an American author in Berlin who is uniquely qualified to guide anyone writing about Germany. Cullen writes serious history and essays in German, and has been my close friend for nearly fifty years.
Every researcher is existentially dependent on archivists and librarians. This book benefited from the guiding and sometimes warning hand of Klaus Lankheit, a deep reservoir of knowledge of Hitler and the Third Reich and chief archivist at Munich’s indispensible Institut für Zeitgeschichte (Institute for Contemporary History)—where Simone Paulmichl facilitated my access to scholars and resources. I also received timely support from David Morris, Mark Dimunation, and Amber Paranick at the Library of Congress; from Holly Reed and Sharon Culley at the U.S. National Archives; from Evi Hartmann at Washington’s German Historical Institute; from Sylvia Krauss, Johann Pörnbacher, and Josef Anker at the Bayerisches Hauptstaatsarchiv; from Christoph Bachmann and his crack crew at the Staatsarchiv München; from Peter Fleischmann at the Staatsarchiv Nürnberg; from numerous staffers at Munich’s huge and deeply endowed Bayerische Staatsbibliothek (BSB). Special thanks to Angelika Betz in the amazing photo archive of the BSB.
My work in these institutions was made far more efficient by the outstanding research assistance of Courtney Marie Burrell, a gifted graduate student at Munich’s Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität.
To Harald Eichinger, along with prison director Monika Gross, I am indebted for a revealing tour of Landsberg Prison and the spot where Hitler lived, worked, and slept. Thanks also go to Daniella Philippi, spokesperson of Bavarian governor Horst Seehofer, for making the visit possible, and to retired prison historian Klaus Weichert for responding willingly to my queries.
But one Landsberger deserves special gratitude. Manfred Deiler is a leader of the brave, sometimes isolated association of citizen activists and historians who have gradually uncovered Landsberg’s role in mistreating Jewish slave laborers near the end of World War II. Deiler and his colleagues have for two decades worked to preserve the remains of the degrading earthen barracks that housed the doomed prisoners. In the process, Deiler has become a repository of data and documents about Hitler’s stay in Landsberg Prison and its conversion into a shrine after Hitler took power. Deiler welcomed me into his home, guided me through the thicket of his holdings, and repeatedly responded to my requests for