A few months ago, a second copy of Vol. 2 of the midcentury American Handbook of Psychiatry arrived at my house. I scanned, as I always do, for evidence of a former owner. There was a small address label in the inside cover, but the text had been redacted. Thankfully, there was just enough difference in texture, between the letters printed on the label and the semi-matte ink obscuring it, to reveal the identity of its owner: Miss. E. L. Deiglmayr.
Her obituary (she died at 101 in December of 2014) reveals that Erna Louise Deiglmayr worked for fifty years as a social worker in New Orleans. But her commitment to serving others began long before she came to the Big Easy. She was born in Antwerp, Belgium just before World War I, and when occupation again descended in May of 1940, Erna used her professional position to subvert the efforts of the Nazis, preserve the safety of her fellow citizens, and both facilitate and orchestrate the escape of vulnerable members of the Antwerp community.
Erna worked for the labor department, a role that required her to travel throughout the region, developing relationships with local businesses and individuals seeking employment. When the Nazis arrived, worker ID cards which identified individuals as members of the Jewish faith began to evaporate from Erna’s records. In her later years she recalled with a bit of mischief just how small those cards were, implying the ease with which they could disappear.
When programs were implemented to compel Belgians to move to Germany to work for the Reich, Erna would suss out those Belgians who did not wish to leave and designate them in one of two categories deemed ineligible by National Socialist standards: flat footed or infected with venereal disease. She kept a close eye on the female SS officer who was assigned to the labor office, aware that the woman was happy to have that appointment, and, while feigning friendliness, Erna strategically leveraged this knowledge.
Erna became involved with and later a celebrated member of the Belgian resistance, and while she is most lauded for her efforts in escorting numerous children out of Nazi territory and into safe zones, everything about her job involved subtle subversion of the occupation. She regularly delivered envelopes of cash to families seeking to leave the country together, and though action was never taken against her, she eventually raised enough suspicion that her apartment was tossed by the SS. Once, an intentionally “charming” SS officer was sent to persuade Erna that a significant inheritance (which she knew didn’t exist), framed as an apology from the German government for the funds lost by Erna’s father during WWI, awaited her…if only she would report to Berlin to collect it. Erna saw this for the trap that it was and replied cordially with a noncommittal promise to consider the offer.
I found a press photo of her from 1965 when she was elected president of the Quota Club of New Orleans, pictured here with her book. Would I have ever known of her if this copy of the tome had never made it to me? I can’t say. But I felt like I was meant to find her. To be reminded of what can come of a deliberate, perpetual devotion to goodness. I keep her, and her example, in my memory. Now more than ever.
Erna sat down with the National World War II museum and spoke for nearly 2.5 hours about her experiences during the war, gently insisting to the interviewer,
“Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero. I was just as scared as everyone else.”
Here you can watch her interview with the WWII museum.
Leave a Reply