A few days before Yom Kippur in 1943, NBC aired a radio play dramatizing the horrific events and tragic end of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising earlier that year. For half a minute, Americans from coast to coast, many of them Jews but most of them not, listened to a cantor chant el malei rachamim, the traditional Ashkenazi prayer for the dead. “Hear him with reverence,” the announcer instructed. “In the Ghetto, thirty-five thousand stood their ground against an army of the Third Reich—and twenty-five thousand fell. They sleep in their common graves but they have vindicated their birthright. Therefore, let him sing and hear him with reverence, for they have made an offering by fire and atonement unto the Lord and they have earned their sleep.”
This historic broadcast was the first mainstream dramatic representation of the uprising, detailed reports of which only began reaching New York in September 1943, five months after the battle and a few weeks before the High Holidays. The radio play detailed the horrific suffering of the ghetto inhabitants, the heroics of the fighters, and their inevitable deaths. The response was so overwhelming that the program was aired again for Hanukkah in December 1943.
“The Battle of the Warsaw Ghetto” wasn’t just a piece of timely wartime programming by NBC. It was the capstone of an American Jewish Committee program to combat anti-Semitism by promoting the idea that, with the world at war, anti-Jewish bigotry wasn’t just a problem for the Jews—it was also essentially un-American.
The initiative was the brainchild of Richard Rothschild, a philosopher-turned-advertising executive who was recruited in the late 1930s to craft AJC’s national strategy to combat anti-Semitism. Rothschild introduced the concept of “salting in,” whereby notable Jewish figures were folded into radio programs or print material. Their names alone, he felt, would identify them as Jews; there was to be no discussion of the character’s religion or ethnicity. The Jew was to be presented, quite simply, as a natural part of the landscape. At the same time, non-Jewish stars like James Cagney were recruited to perform AJC material. Meantime, millions of Americans saw full-page newspaper advertisements, school posters, and comic books prepared by AJC but distributed through partner organizations.
While the war itself laid the groundwork for shifting American perceptions about Jews, Rothschild and his colleagues were instrumental in casting anti-Semitism outside the realm of social acceptability. Rather than dignifying anti-Semitic attacks with a direct response, they simply presented an alternate reality in which Jews were portrayed in pop culture as Americans like anyone else—prefiguring by decades the rise of Judd Apatow’s nebbishy anti-heroes. The anti-Semites, Rothschild argued, had to be the “ones in the criminals’ dock” where their un-Americanism, indecency, and subversive activities could be exposed.
The story begins in the 1930s, a decade when American Jews were facing an unprecedented rise in anti-Semitism. According to Charles Herbert Stember’s Jews in the Mind of America, 31 percent of those surveyed at the time believed Jews were less patriotic than other Americans. Slightly more than 40 percent believed Jews had too much power in America. An estimated 30 million Americans regularly tuned in to hear the firebrand radio preacher Father Charles Coughlin inveigh against the menace of Jewish power, especially as the slow march toward war in Europe quickened. In bulletins, at rallies, and on street corners, organizations such as the Silver Shirts and the Christian Front warned of the Jewish threat. Some groups received encouragement from Nazi agents, while others received hard cash.
While Jewish organizations like the American Jewish Committee had always been alert to episodes of anti-Semitism, they were often handled on a case-by-case basis. Now, with anti-Semitism threatening to poison the American bloodstream, a broader, more vigorous approach was required. Benjamin Buttenwieser, a prominent AJC lay leader, believed the organization needed to reach Americans where they congregated—around the family radio. In 1936, he called NBC looking for a candidate to help AJC launch a radio department. “Have you got any Jewish fellows up there?” Buttenwieser asked. They had one, a man named Milton Krents. He had some radio experience, but only from his college days at New York University. At NBC, he had worked in the mail room and accounting department. No question, Krents’ résumé was thin, but he was going to have to do.
Krents seized the opportunity with both hands. When his girlfriend Irma—later his wife—visited the AJC office, he showed her a large U.S. map on the wall stuck full of color pins. “What is this?” she asked. “Those are all the places that are going to carry my radio programs,” he told her. In 1937, Krents’ first year at AJC, he assisted with or independently produced 23 programs. The next year, approximately 2,000 broadcasts carrying AJC messages went out over the airwaves.
When Richard Rothschild arrived in 1938, he brought an unusual amalgam of highbrow intellect and marketing savvy to Krents’ program. Rothschild had studied economics and philosophy at Yale, graduating in 1916, just as the country was seized with debate over entry into WWI. After serving in the U.S. Navy as an aviation ensign he made his way to New York’s nascent advertising industry, building an impressive record at two prominent firms: J. Walter Thompson, and Lord & Thomas. At the same time, he kept his hand in philosophy, writing a book, Paradoxy: The Destiny of Modern Thought. Published in 1931, the book caught the attention of Albert Einstein, who wrote Rothschild praising his skill in presenting philosophy without “unnecessary pedantry or technicality.”
This ability to go directly to the core of a problem, coupled with a talent for communication, would serve Rothschild well at AJC, where he became a member and then chairman of the Survey Committee, the division responsible for combating anti-Semitism. Firm in his belief that Americans were not concerned with the problems of the Jewish minority, he contended in his reports, “It would not be enough to show that anti-Semitism was bad for the Jews; we had to show that it was bad for America and Americans.” The “rabble rousing tyranny” of the anti-Semites threatened decent democratic values. By taking this tack, AJC could “enlist a host of allies, political leaders, newspaper and magazine editors, radio personalities, organization heads. And such public figures not only could reach millions … but could make anti-Semitism itself disreputable.”
Ironically, the effort required AJC to stay in the shadows. With the exception of Jewish holiday radio programs, the organization rarely attached its name to its programming. Internal memoranda reveal that both Rothschild and Krents were concerned that such action would convey defensiveness and self-interest. Yet, there was probably an additional unspoken reason—a persistent undercurrent of insecurity. American Jewry, with a substantial immigrant composition, was still not quite at home, even in the midst of a project aimed at cementing Jews’ place in the cultural fabric of America.