I can’t remember how old I was the first time I saw the film — it was on our little b/w tv in my mom’s sewing room, and she wanted my older sister and me to watch it. I think I was in upper years of grade school at the time. My dad thought we were too young, but my mom prevailed. It was the first time I had ever seen photographs of the Nazi camps, and had to ask what I was seeing, so my mom explained. The images were imprinted, forever.
My dad was raised in Duluth — relatively “small town”, by minimally educated working class parents, one a childhood immigrant from Greece. My mom came from Chicago, part of the old and fairly successful Irish Catholic heart of the big city. Her father had been a salesman catering to the “rag trade”, in which he had numerous associates, and some true friends, who were Jewish. One particular successful clothing magnate had helped my grandfather as much as he could during the Depression, among his good deeds being the provision of nice dresses, even fancy gowns, for my mom and her sister. (When she graduated from Loretto High School, my mom could receive her diploma, but by tradition could not walk in the ceremony unless she had a full-length white dress and a flower girl with a dozen roses! The friendly tailor provided everything they needed.)
It was this somewhat unusual relationship which shaped my mother’s whole attitude towards Jews and the Holocaust, and her references to it were just enough to form a lasting impression on her daughters — a lasting affinity for the Jewish people. Between that and our solid education by some great nuns [like my 6th-grade teacher who explained to us that Catholics were essentially just “Super-Jews”!], I discovered that I was basically a Catholic “philo-Semite”! And I always knew that it began with that viewing of “Judgement at Nuremberg”, an experience I had gone into completely unprepared — but for which I am eternally grateful.
Overwhelming commentary of the evils men can deny, ignore, or refuse to acknowledge. Truth however is ultimately victorious but unfortunately victims cannot experience this outcome. It is the living who must exercise " justice, truth, and the value of a single himan being." One must then ask the question as to the value of the fetus and whether there will be a time when another "Nuremberg Trial" may take place.
Judgment at Nuremberg (1961)
I can’t remember how old I was the first time I saw the film — it was on our little b/w tv in my mom’s sewing room, and she wanted my older sister and me to watch it. I think I was in upper years of grade school at the time. My dad thought we were too young, but my mom prevailed. It was the first time I had ever seen photographs of the Nazi camps, and had to ask what I was seeing, so my mom explained. The images were imprinted, forever.
My dad was raised in Duluth — relatively “small town”, by minimally educated working class parents, one a childhood immigrant from Greece. My mom came from Chicago, part of the old and fairly successful Irish Catholic heart of the big city. Her father had been a salesman catering to the “rag trade”, in which he had numerous associates, and some true friends, who were Jewish. One particular successful clothing magnate had helped my grandfather as much as he could during the Depression, among his good deeds being the provision of nice dresses, even fancy gowns, for my mom and her sister. (When she graduated from Loretto High School, my mom could receive her diploma, but by tradition could not walk in the ceremony unless she had a full-length white dress and a flower girl with a dozen roses! The friendly tailor provided everything they needed.)
It was this somewhat unusual relationship which shaped my mother’s whole attitude towards Jews and the Holocaust, and her references to it were just enough to form a lasting impression on her daughters — a lasting affinity for the Jewish people. Between that and our solid education by some great nuns [like my 6th-grade teacher who explained to us that Catholics were essentially just “Super-Jews”!], I discovered that I was basically a Catholic “philo-Semite”! And I always knew that it began with that viewing of “Judgement at Nuremberg”, an experience I had gone into completely unprepared — but for which I am eternally grateful.
Overwhelming commentary of the evils men can deny, ignore, or refuse to acknowledge. Truth however is ultimately victorious but unfortunately victims cannot experience this outcome. It is the living who must exercise " justice, truth, and the value of a single himan being." One must then ask the question as to the value of the fetus and whether there will be a time when another "Nuremberg Trial" may take place.
In the real trials, the defense relied heavily on quoting Holmes. I wish he had lived just a few years longer so he could have seen that, the villain.