In that story, the world of 13-year-old Lottie falls apart at an early age. Her grandfather Salomon Pollack, from nearby Rüthen, flees to his death in 1937 after being publicly ridiculed and deprived of his rights. The family breaks up. Her uncle Adolf Pollak and her aunt Henriette emigrate to the USA in 1938 to escape anti-Jewish harassment. At school in Wünnenberg, Lottie Aronstein is increasingly humiliated by her teacher. Lottie’s father Paul, a survivor of the First World War after being shot in the head, is informed in writing “… by the Nazi authorities in 1938 that as a Jew he was no longer entitled to hold this decoration awarded to him for his bravery in the battles at Verdun, and that he must hand over the Iron Cross to the local group leader within 24 hours.” The name of her uncle Eduard – also a recipient of the Iron Cross – who died in the First World War, is publicly removed by the National Socialists from the war memorial near her school. Shortly before Lottie’s fourteenth birthday on 10 November 1938, her “… father was arrested by the Gestapo and taken to the Buchenwald concentration camp in a sealed cattle car.” Mother and children are left unprotected, and the very next day a group of thugs from the town of Fürstenberg arrive to publicly destroy the Aronstein family’s belongings directly before the eyes of the villagers. Adele Aronstein and her children Lottie and Erich find neither a sympathetic ear nor a refuge with their neighbours. Destitute, they flee to relatives in Bremen. Mother and children separate two months later, and for the two youngest children a humiliating, fearful period of flight and persecution across Europe begins, during which they “… unfortunately met only a few good people.” After internment in various camps from Belgium to southern France, the children receive a postcard from their father in the Gurs prison camp via the Red Cross. At the risk of their lives, they both manage to get to their father Paul, in the St. Cyprien camp. With the help of relatives from the USA, the three embark on the ship “Monte Viso” in April 1940. At this point the refugees think they are safe, but the ship is stopped off Casablanca and they are taken to the Casbah Tadla camp in the Sahara. Once again they endure bitter hunger, thirst, heat, cold, illness, humiliation, deprivation of rights, destitution and fear of death. After some months, they manage to escape and, with the help of others, are given passage anew on a Spanish ship. “… On 14 August 1941, after two years and eight months of this terrible odyssey…” they finally set foot “… on American soil for the first time”, about which Ms Salton is to later write: “It is impossible to describe the feelings of freedom and happiness we felt at that moment.” In her letter to a Wünnenberg school class in 1994, Lottie wrote: “I ... have tried to put down on paper a rough outline of our fate during the dark years 1933 to 1942. Although all of this happened a long time ago, before you were born, the memory of the horrors of persecution is still difficult to overcome. We can only hope that the Lord will spare us all such severe trials and keep us, imperfect as we humans are, in peace and righteousness. And above all, that He will not let us forget that He created us in His image (Genesis, Chapter 1, verse 27).”

Lottie Salton and I developed a personal, friendly bond over the years. Coins sometimes seem to bring people together in a special way. Lottie’s husband, Mark, writes in his memoirs that during his time in Berlin (1928-1936) many coin collectors became family friends, and came and went in the Schlessinger home. Some of these important contacts helped his own family to emigrate to the Netherlands in 1936, to make a new start in Amsterdam, and supported the two children Max and Paul in their escape in 1940. Many of these same friends and companions later fell victim to the National Socialists themselves.

In his own memoirs, Mark Salton (Max M. Schlessinger) also describes vividly the environment in which he grew up, in which numismatics was the linchpin and livelihood of the family. His father Felix was successful in the coin trade, possessing the numismatic knowledge, the necessary contacts and the negotiating skill to bring even the most difficult negotiations to a good conclusion. Mark particularly remembers his father’s grueling negotiations at the Soviet Embassy in Berlin for his Auction 13 of the Collection of Greek Museum Coins (Hermitage, Leningrad) with 1655 numbers, which took place in 1935. Mark’s mother, Hedwig Schlessinger (née Feuchtwanger) spoke fluent English, French and Italian, and wrote most of the elaborate handwritten company correspondence. It is not surprising that Mark was determined to become a numismatist himself: “… Although I had decided at a young age to follow into Father’s numismatic footsteps, my parents felt that this should be preceded by a formal education not confined to numismatics. Little did I realize then, how essential their wisdom would prove in later years.”

A glance at the present collection shows unmistakably that the banker Mark Salton simultaneously remained a lifelong numismatist. From now on, others may enjoy this life’s work and, with a purchase from the collection, support the cause that was so close to Mark and Lottie Salton’s hearts, never losing sight of our common humanity.

Mark and Lottie led a modest, very secluded life in New York, where only a few people were able to gain their trust. However, they did not forget all of those who were loyal companions to them. Their donations, too went to charitable, humanitarian institutions. They, who experienced so much inhumanity in their lives, demonstrated with their life’s work not only great numismatic stature, but also great human stature.

In addition, both Lottie and Mark collected medals. They did so not only because the market had forgotten such medals for many years, as Mark writes in his memoirs, but also because of “their aesthetic qualities as for the humanistic message they convey”. Mark and Lottie themselves now send one of the greatest imaginable humanistic messages to the world with their legacy.

For many years, this collection with its accompanying stories from two lives was hidden, and it is wonderful that both are now to see the light of day. 

The italicised text passages here are original or translated quotes from Lottie and Mark Salton’s memoirs. It is well worth letting Mark and Lottie speak for themselves by reading their memoirs in the original. 

Osnabrück, January 2022
Alexandra Elflein-Schwier