What was it like to research Nuremberg before the web existed?

This is the question I asked Northwestern University scholar Francesca Gaiba, author of the only book about simultaneous interpretation at world’s first international trial. She began her research in 1994—the old-fashioned way. For reference, the world wide web (www) was just coming online this same year.

After publishing her book in 1998, Francesca held onto all her original documents and looked for a university library to archive them properly. I am most grateful she invited me to view and photograph them before shipping to the International Association of Conference Interpreters (AIIC) in Geneva, Switzerland.

Francesca has also generously shared her digital archive with us for use in the Courtroom 600 website.

How her project started

As a multi-lingual Italian student and conference interpreter, Francesca questioned the origins of her craft for what began as a thesis paper.

“Who had the idea that it was possible to connect microphones and earphones in such a way that a speech could be translated instantaneously and extempore in a different language? Who thought it was possible for an interpreter to hear and speak at the same time?”

Francesca learned the simultaneous interpretation system pioneered in 1945 for Nuremberg, soon became adopted globally by the newly formed United Nations. In effect, from this historic trial a new profession was born—the very profession she was studying in college.

Uncharted territory

Researching a topic no previous academic had pursued, Francesca soon realized published source materials did not exist. She had to access archival materials, and even those were scarce. A quest for answers transported her from libraries in Bologna, Italy to Heidelberg, Germany and eventually to Berkeley, California where she completed her thesis and book, The Origins of Simultaneous Interpretation: The Nuremberg Trial (University of Ottowa Press, 1998).

Active interpreters in Courtroom 600 face the witness booth (off camera, right) to monitor lip movement as they speak into microphones. “SLOW” cards in large type remind them not to rush. Photo sources: (L) University of Ottowa Press (R) National Archives and Records Association.

Why was simultaneous interpretation so important at Nuremberg?

Previously, the most widely used interpretation style was the consecutive method, wherein interpreters wait until after a speaker finishes a sentence before starting the target language. This method doubles the amount of time for each additional language involved.

Architects of the world’s first international trial realized, court sessions in four languages (English, German, Russian, and French) would extend proceedings far longer than the Allies desired.

Need for an expeditious trial inspired innovation, and a process still in place today. 

“The Nuremberg Trial was the first official international gathering in which simultaneous interpretation was used.”

US Chief Prosecutor Robert H. Jackson at the lectern in Courtroom 600. Photo source: National Archives and Records Association.

This 10-month trial filled 42 volumes and was estimated at six million words. Yet nowhere in the official record was there any mention of the system that permitted a historic first: multilingual conduct in a trial.

Francesca’s resulting paper and book broke new ground, detailing how more than 500 people in Courtroom 600 were able to understand prosecutors, judges, witnesses, and defense council in real time—for the first time in the world.

It’s hard to fathom life before Google. Library card catalogs were the pre-internet equivalent, which led Francesca to books, papers, and eventually—to the actual interpreters who worked at Nuremberg. Fluency in English, French, and Italian allowed her to communicate with a variety of global interpreters and really got her project off the ground.

Through handwritten and typed letters, Nuremberg interpreters answered questions and shared details no one had thought to document previously, in thousands of published works about the trials.

Peter Uiberall in the Courtroom 600 interpreter’s booth, and one of the many letters he wrote Francesca Gaiba. Photo sources: (L) National Archives and Records Association, (R) Francesca Gaiba.

Peter Uiberall, a Jewish interpreter who fled Nazi Germany in 1938 for the US, and Alfred Steer, the American Translation Division Chief, became key sources for much of Francesca’s resulting paper and book.

The Origins of Simultaneous Interpretation sheds light on multiple aspects of the Nuremberg story, both technical and personal. Through her letters, Francesca learned some of the best interpreters came from the Paris telephone exchange, where multi-lingual fluidity was a make it or break it skill.

 Alfred Steer called Nuremberg “a dirty job” in a ruined city—where shocking, horrendous revelations of Nazi crimes had to be repeated in multiple languages, then proofed against the recorded speech for historical accuracy. After this type of stress, trial staff could look forward to army rations for food and barely enough heat to keep warm in the winter. Drinking water required a chlorine tablet added for safety, and hot water for bathing was rare.

The ruins of Nuremberg in 1945, and the Palace of Justice cafeteria at lunchtime, where army rations were served on metal trays. Photo sources: (L) FOR ALAN/Alamy Stock Photo (R) National Archives and Records Association.

The World Wide Web in 1994. Photo sources: https://www.businessinsider.com/tech-in-1994-the-year-the-web-was-born-2014-

After inheriting my father’s war memorabilia from Nuremberg, Francesca’s book was one of the first I acquired in my own research journey—found through a Google search in 2015 and previewed extensively thanks to Google Books.

Her approachable writing style and attention to detail quickly drew me in. Along with sharing interpreter experiences at the trial, Francesca’s book answered an important question: why are there multiple spellings for Nuremberg (Nürnberg, Nuernberg, Nuremberg, Nurenberg)?

“According to Alfred Steer, Head of the Translation Division in Nuremberg, the Americans adopted it from the British, who imitated the French pronunciation. The French add a third syllable, -em- to the two syllable German word.”

Alfred Steer in his office at Nuremberg, and one of the many letters he wrote to Francesca Gaiba 50 years later. Photo sources: (L) Francesca Gaiba (R) National Archives and Records Association.

Francesca’s research into uncharted territory will impact scholars (and inquisitors like myself) for decades to come. When I approached her about the Courtroom 600 project her response was—she wished a website like ours had been around when she was researching Nuremberg (check out Francesca’s kind endorsement at the bottom of our Project Roadmap page).

We live in an age where the internet is ubiquitous to our daily lives. Who could imagine attempting any type of research without going online as a starting point?

For the next generation of internet-savvy Nuremberg researchers and inquisitors, Courtroom 600 will be a dynamic learning tool—and a new way of experiencing history.

I’ve asked Francesca to be a guest in our upcoming podcast series about the “Making of” Nuremberg, so stay tuned for much more of her story! And, to get the latest on Courtroom 600, follow us on Twitter and Facebook or sign up for our e-news updates.

The trial of the Major Nazi War Criminals was the first time in history the world passed judgement together, in four languages, inside Courtroom 600 at The Palace of Justice, Nuremberg.

LEARN MORE

Check out Francesca’s book on Amazon or Google Books.

For information on interpreting as a career path, visit the International Alliance of Conference Interpreters (AIIC).

See behind the scenes photos of the simultaneous interpretation system at the trial, in “The Making Of Nuremberg” section of our Courtroom 600 pilot site.

Francesca Gaiba, PhD, CPRA is a Research Associate Professor and Associate Director for the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing at Northwestern University. 

My parents were children of the Great Depression, a time when economic hardship was the norm and thriftiness a habit carried forward. In addition to scrimping with money, the “Silent Generation” was also scant on information sharing.

Case in point: my 89-year-old mom who was often aghast at today’s transparency, admitted that people just didn’t ask questions or talk about things the way they do now. She recounted a time when her Aunt Rose was in the hospital and relatives asked what was wrong. “She had an operation” is what was said, plain and simple. Heads nodded and the matter was closed. Never mind she had breast cancer which would be important for every woman in the family to know, certainly her descendants!

It wasn’t just women of the Silent Generation that were tight lipped, turns out the men were too – especially veterans of World War II. For those who experienced the horrors of battle watching their buddies die or suffering injury themselves, it’s understandable. 

But my father witnessed something entirely different in World War II, and passed without sharing his unique story.

As one of 654 Americans dispatched to Nuremberg, Germany in the summer of 1945, he helped prepare for the international trial of major Nazi war criminals.

It was only after my parents divorced that I first heard about it, in front of other siblings and my dad’s new partner one Christmas. No specifics were revealed other than – he worked there and was planning a trip to revisit the city again. If only I had the presence of mind to follow up…

Fast forward to the summer of 2015. As I watched over him sedated in hospice, his lady friend and partner of twenty-some years arrived with a bag for me. “Your dad wanted you to have these,” she said. “It’s his war memorabilia.”

After she left I spread everything out to take inventory. Since I’m the one person in our family who uses Photoshop, I figured there might be pictures or other items I could use to make a funeral poster.

Turns out there was way more than photographs in that bag. There was an entire secret story. Taking it all in, I felt as if I’d been transported to another time, another world. There were illustrated postcards of landmarks in the medieval city of Nuremberg, with the words “Adolph Hitler Platz” crossed out and “Marketplatz” stamped in its place; tiny sepia toned, deckle-edge photos of my dad standing amidst the ruins; security badges authorizing him to enter the Palace of Justice, and others for the prison; and one document which puzzles me to this day – a tri-fold restricted authorization card naming him as a Special Agent in the Counter Intelligence Corps assigned to Internal Security. It was hand signed by the Commandant of the Nuremberg prison (I would come to learn), exempting him from all curfew regulations and permitting entrance to any building or installation deemed off limits.

Then I got to his army discharge papers, which listed him as a “clerk typist.” So I thought – if he’s only a typist, why all the high-level security clearance, and…what’s he doing in the Major War Criminals wing of the prison?

A million questions rushed into my mind. Why didn’t he share this story, was it still classified? Where did he keep all these documents, because not even my mother had seen them – a big surprise to us all.

He was only 21 years old in 1945, a lifetime away. Yet my father witnessed history. In Nuremberg, he learned about the scope of Nazi criminality so vast it’s simply beyond comprehension. As I glanced at him peacefully sleeping I realized, the chance to hear his story personally had come and gone.

After returning home and a period of grieving I was determined to get to the bottom of it all. I would document the story – if not for me, for my father’s grandchildren.

What was it like to live and work in a city 90% bombed to ruins, among an enemy population and with 20,000 dead still buried amongst the rubble? Who were my dad’s co-workers in the deckled edge photos he thought important enough to save and hide all these years, and what were their roles in the trial? When the day’s work was done, how did they socialize given such extreme limitations? You couldn’t even drink the water without adding a chlorine tablet.

This quest for answers transformed me from casual inquisitor to amateur detective; from that point on I kept a standing date with Google just about every night, loading up my carts on Amazon and eBay with out-of-print eyewitness accounts and biographies of people who worked at the trials.

As a creative director and producer, the human experience at Nuremberg fascinated me. But stories and pictures that could provide context and break down the complexity of these trials, were not online.

I uncovered books written by journalists, psychologists, interpreters, and other personnel – many had published their memoirs within 10 years of the trial’s end. Another wave and more complete historian accounts were released between 1990 and 2010, either as compilation projects or solo works. Some of these accounts were written by descendants of those who worked in Nuremberg.

My book shelves were buckling with so many great stories yet they were contained in so many disparate sources.

From guards in white helmets (called “snowdrops”) to technicians, translators, lawyers and many more men and women behind the scenes – all worked furiously to mount an international trial in four languages, something that had never been done.

It was a race against the clock with immense obstacles for the US Army and war crimes community every day during that summer of 1945. Everyone was literally flying by the seat of their pants, all the way to the first day of trial, November 20th, 1945. Then a different kind of drama played out over the course of 403 court sessions, through most of 1946.

Nuremberg’s statistics alone are staggering: prosecutors sifted through 100,000 captured German documents (that’s 3000 tons of paper) and millions of images/feet of film; the US Army had to massively renovate the courthouse, office buildings, and a hotel. They arranged all food, housing, supplies and logistics for a transplanted international community of more than a thousand. The US Army took on all this and more, guarding the Nazi prisoners and witnesses, providing security throughout area, and developing an infrastructure in which 700 million mimeographed, typewritten pages could be created over the next 9 months of trial. That’s a stack of paper 47 miles high, and evidently my father may have typed some of it!

I began to realize a “behind the scenes” story of Courtroom 600 in Nuremberg, with both words and pictures together, has never been told. All the human drama, massive logistics, international diplomacy and compromise involved in such an undertaking – could it be consolidated somehow?

Add to that the stories of Hitler’s henchmen in the dock who were responsible for everything from waging aggressive war to unprecedented art and gold plunder, propaganda, slave labor, torture – and implementing the Holocaust.

Outside the courtroom amidst the rubble, two other populations intersect the Nuremberg story: “displaced people” or DPs that include homeless, traumatized, concentration camp survivors; and German citizens – mostly women, children, and the elderly since men at war were either dead or in POW camps. Starving, disillusioned, brainwashed in different ways, and living amidst the ruins – their journeys are part of this story too.