The Outfielder
How the dreadful secrets and lies of an Auschwitz death camp survivor almost destroyed his American-born son, the outfielder that never was
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The concierge at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem marks the spot in the desert on the map. The concierge shakes his head. “No one has lived there in years. It’s foolish to venture into the desert without a knowledgeable escort. The nearest settlement is miles away from that spot.” Feld hands the concierge a generous tip but ignores the advice and sets out in an open Jeep. A big mistake, he quickly discovers. When not frying in the unrelenting sun, Feld seems to be swallowing half the desert sand. Squinting in the glare, he finally spots the side road that he hopes will lead him to his destination. Feld checks his map, then swerves onto to the road, barely a sand path in the desert. After about a mile, he spots a modest house, the only one he’s spotted since turning onto this road. It has to be it. He pulls up, turns off the ignition, hops out, and reaches for his brief case sitting on the rear seat. Feld raps on the door. An old man in his eighties opens the door. Feld puts out his hand. “I’m Dr. Bernard Feld.” Avrams grabs his hand in pulls him in. “Come in, come in, get out of the heat.” Avrams looks at his unexpected guest. “I don’t know how you ended up here but if you are heading for Jerusalem, you still have a two-hour ride. I can’t imagine why you’re in the desert midday, but whatever the reason, you should wait to travel until the sun is low. You look a little worse for wear. Can I get you something to eat or drink? Perhaps a little iced tea?” “Iced tea please. I must have been crazy to come here in an open jeep. I’m sure I swallowed my weight in desert sand!” Avrams nods and pours the tea handing the glass to Feld. “Yes, the desert can be cruel, but it has its good side, you know. I’ve been able to grow lemons in this soil. What are you doing out here, so far from the main road? I don’t get very many visitors.” Feld finishes off the iced tea in a few gulps. He did not realize how dehydrated he had become under that relentless sun. “Sorry to come unannounced, Dr. Avrams, but you have no telephone.” Avrams eyes widen. “You know my name? You’ve come to see me?” “Surely you were expecting me, weren’t you?” Avrams chuckles. “Young man, the only visitor I’m expecting is the Messiah. Unless you’re him, you’re unexpected.” “That’s strange. Didn’t the Mossad inform you?” “The Mossad, you say? They come once a month to bring me food and supplies. They aren’t due for eight days. Why? You work for the Mossad?” Feld smiles. “Hardly. I am just a doctor, a psychiatrist from New York. No, I’m not with the Mossad, but I do have contacts in the government.” “Feld, eh? I know that name.” He shakes his right index finger. “One moment.” Avrams disappears into another room and re-emerges a minute later triumphantly waving an old newspaper. “Ah, here it is. You were the expert witness for the police, the Mishtara, in the murder trial of the young Israeli who murdered Palestinian civilians. It seems to me there was another Feld in the news many years ago but I can’t remember. Maybe it will come to me.” Avrams shakes his head. “So you convinced the court to release that criminal.” Feld nods. “Daniel Eckelman. He was insane.” “Insane, eh? I’ll tell you what’s insane. The whole Arab/Israeli situation is insane. You let off a murderer. If he murdered Jews, he wouldn’t have been let off.” Feld sighs. He’d heard these accusations before. “Eckelman suffered from severe paranoid delusions. Moses told him to kill those Arabs; that’s what he believed.” Avrams issues a short, harsh laugh. “Perhaps Moses did tell him that.” “The defense has had trouble reaching Moses for confirmation,” Feld retorts. Avrams shrugs. “Wouldn’t you know it? The gods can never be found when you need them. I know, because I saw thousands die despite all the praying. Saying the Shema didn’t help. But listen, I’m sure you did not come all this way to discuss theology. What do you want with me?” “Fair enough question. I’m here to ask about my father, Noah Feld, a doctor who lived in your village–in Germany. I believe he assisted you in Auschwitz.” Avrams rubs his chin, frowning. “Feld? I knew no such person by that name in Auschwitz.” “Perhaps by another name?” Feld asked. The old man shakes his slowly. “There were too many other names, too many to remember.” “I can wait. I’ve got the time.” Avrams eyes blaze. “Well, I do not. You damn well know that I am dying. Why were you sent here? Mossad had promised me that I would not be disturbed and could die in peace. Now they send you. Why?” “Mossad didn’t send me. I’m here on my own volition.” “Then you came uninvited. Maybe you should leave.” Feld leans forward. “Dr. Avrams, I’m a psychiatrist. It is clear to me that you are carrying a very heavy burden.” “Ah, so you can read minds, too, among your other talents,” Avrams says, a bitter smile on his face. “By the way, I’m just Elias Avrams, no longer ‘doctor’.” Feld looks into the old man’s eyes. “Sometimes I can heal minds,” he says softly. Avrams shakes his head slowly. “And you have traveled what, six thousand miles to ask me questions about things that happened over sixty years ago? Just who are you trying to heal? Yourself?” Feld smiles. “Very perceptive, Dr. Avrams. Unfortunately, I don’t have enough information to heal myself. I need your help.” “Don’t speak to me, Dr. Feld. Speak to your rabbi, or perhaps, your friends in the police.” Feld sighs. “They don’t have the answers I need. I think you do. I have traveled over the last ten days looking for answers. Answers that I thought I’d find in Auschwitz or in Bad Soden.” Silence. Feld sits patiently. He is used to waiting and not pushing. Avrams leans back, his hands behind his head, looking not at Feld, but into some unfathomable distance. “Over forty years ago, Israel exiled me to this uninhabited place in the desert. They had tortured me, starved me, deprived me of water, demanded that I admit to things I did not do. I told them what I knew, but they did not want to hear it, and I continued to tell them only what I knew. Yet you come here thinking I will speak to you, tell you something different. I admire such arrogance!” Avrams stands up and turns his back on Feld. “Now, if you will excuse me, Dr. Feld, the only thing I have to say to you is to advise you to see Jerusalem before you return to America. Walk the streets of the Old City and its venerable holy sites, then compare it to the New City. You will see, Jerusalem is magnificent.” “I’m not here as a tourist. I need your help and I believe I am in a position to help you.” Avrams turns and looks into Feld’s eyes. ‘Perhaps, but you are also in a position to hurt me.”
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About the Book
Dr. Bernie Feld, a well-known and successful psychiatrist in New York City, embarked on a journey to uncover the horrible secrets of his father’s past as an inmate in Auschwitz and learn the tragic fate of his mother who seemingly abandoned him at age twelve. The quest almost destroyed his medical career and the relationship with the woman he loved. From childhood, Feld knew his father was a survivor of the infamous Auschwitz, but not much more, certainly not the horrible secrets his father harbored. As a young boy and a teenager, Bernie’s real dream was to become a major league baseball player. It was not the usual child’s daydream because Bernie had the talent, drive, desire, and the passion to become a professional. However, Bernie’s father, now a tailor in New York, forbade Bernie from pursuing baseball and an athletic scholarship. A Holocaust survivor, his father had been a former inmate doctor at the Auschwitz. Now, he pushed Bernie into becoming a doctor, impressing on Bernie how he sacrificed his own chance to for a medical career in America to send his son to the finest medical school to become a successful doctor just as he, his father, had been in Germany before the Holocaust. A fateful meeting with an Israeli Mossad agent, however, caused Bernie Feld to abandon his lucrative New York psychiatry practice and his patients, and destroy the relationship with the woman he loved, by embarking on a quest to Israel to uncover the truth. He found an ostracized Auschwitz survivor, exiled to a remote and lonely Judean Desert, who reluctantly revealed the horror of the Gestapo roundup of his father’s family and the incomprehensible and devastating facts about what his father did in Auschwitz as an inmate doctor. Further, he also learned for the first time what had actually happened to his mother, who had supposedly abandoned him. Feld now faced the daunting task of trying to put back together his shattered life.
About the Author
Carl Steinhouse, a retired lawyer, was a federal prosecutor for the United States Department of Justice for 15 years after which he went into private practice specializing in class actions, white-collar crime, and civil and criminal trials. In the early fifties, he served as an intelligence analyst in the Army Counterintelligence Corps. Mr. Steinhouse was Vice Chairman of the Antitrust Section of the American Bar Association, and on the editorial boards of two Bureau of National Affairs publications. He also wrote and edited books on grand jury practice, criminal trial practice, and criminal juries and a frequent lecturer at ABA National Institutes and video courses on grand jury and criminal trial practice. He is a frequent contributor to the Naples Daily News writing about the humorous side of the law. In the 80’s and 90’s he was active on an international level for the National Conference on Soviet Jewry, making several trips to Jerusalem and Helsinki on fact-finding missions and to the Soviet Union to aid Refusniks (those Jews the Soviets refused to let emigrate). A board member of the Cleveland Anti-Defamation League until 1999 and formerly on ADL’s National Legal Affairs and National Fact Finding Committees, he was active in ADL matters, including monitoring activities of hate groups. Mr. Steinhouse, had lost family in German-occupied territory during World War II, and was personally affected by the Holocaust. He has published five books in his Holocaust series to rave reviews: Wallenberg is Here!, Righteous and Courageous, Improbable Heroes, Barred, and We Shall Be Called Israel. The books received rave reviews from Holocaust scholars and authors. The author is happily married and lives in Naples, Florida, where he does his writing. ******** Joseph Richman is freelance feature writer and journalist. His works have been published in Florida and New York. He also interviewed TONY Award winner Henderson Forsyth for his role in the Broadway Show "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas", which was published nationally in Soap Opera Digest. Mr. Richman was a member of the Playwrights and Directors Unit of the Actors Studio in New York, Under the late Harold Clurman and Lee Strasberg. Mr. Richman was also a member of the Playwright's Unit of the Neighborhood Playhouse (founded by Sanford Meisner) in New York. Mr. Richman studied screenwriting at the New School for Social Research in New York. The screenplay for Outfielder was developed at the Actors Studio, under the leadership of the late Arthur Penn and Estelle Parsons and scenes were presented to the Studio Members, where they received positive reviews.