Jon Marks
You could say that Anne Frank was one of more than 6 million “hostages” taken from their homes by the Nazis eight decades ago.
One day, she and the rest of her family — just like those 240-plus Israelis on Oct. 7 — were minding their own business. The next, they were forcibly removed and headed — not to a secret Hamas hiding place, but first to Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland and later to Bergen-Belsen in Germany.
While the circumstances certainly differ, the devastating impact on their lives was just as profound.
Except for one thing: None of the Israeli hostages, most of whom remain in captivity by Hamas and other terrorist sympathizers, had the opportunity to keep a diary. Anne Frank did, writing about her hopes, dreams and fears while hiding in the cramped secret annex of the Amsterdam building where her father had run his business.
The teenager who was 15 when she died in 1945 — not long before the Allies liberated some of the prisoners from the camps — might be 94 today had she remained in good health. Presumably, she would’ve gone on to raise a family and live a productive life, likely as a journalist as was her passion.
Her brief life and those thoughts of what might’ve been were rekindled during a summer visit to the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam, which has turned into a tourist attraction over the years. According to museum officials, about 4,000 visitors a day come to see it. That adds up to more than 1.4 million a year.
Simply buying tickets is a chore. You must buy them exactly six weeks ahead of when you plan to visit — and they go quickly. Tickets go on sale at 10 a.m. Amsterdam time (4 a.m. EST) every Tuesday at annefrank.org.
While the museum is open daily from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m., by 8 a.m. in early July there was nothing available on the website until 7 p.m. for a mid-August visit. That included a 30-minute audio tour, followed by entry into the museum itself.
Fast forward six weeks, and you’re finally there. You get off the tram at the Westermarkt stop and almost immediately come to an area where you’ll find an Anne Frank statue adorned with flowers in front.
Walk a few blocks along the canal, and you’ll know when you’ve arrived.
The building is ringed with onlookers, many of whom come to take a selfie, meet up with friends or check out the gift shop, which is set apart from the museum in the section of the building where Otto Frank worked. The line for entry to the museum itself starts forming outside well before the time stamped on your ticket.
For those paying a little extra, the audio tour, which is offered in several languages, is well worth it. You walk through the entrance doors up the steps into what looks like a classroom. That’s where you see a timeline of Hitler’s and the Nazis’ rise to power and how it impacted the Frank family.
There are pictures of Anne, her three-years-older sister Margot and their parents, Otto and Edith. You see how they started in Frankfurt, Germany, before moving to Amsterdam in 1933 when Otto decided it was no longer safe for them as Jews. You hear how he ran his business in the storefront at Prinsengracht 263 while Anne and Margot went to school.
The timeline explains how things began to change in 1940 once the Germans took occupation of the Netherlands. Gradually, persecution of the Jews began to fester.
First, Otto Frank lost his company when Jews were forbidden from running businesses.
Anne and Margot were then forced to go to a school strictly for Jews.
Next, Jews were forced to wear a Star of David on their clothing.
Finally, after Margot was told to report to a “labor camp,” Otto decided they were no longer safe, and it was time for his family to go into hiding. In anticipation of that possibility, he set up the upstairs portion of his factory in the back as a refuge, complete with a stove, bathroom, beds and other furniture.
The entrance was blocked by a revolving bookcase. That enabled them to go about their business, although they remained as silent as possible during the day to not be discovered by the workers.
The Franks went into hiding in that secret annex on July 6, 1942. They were soon joined by Otto’s friend Hermann van pels, his wife Augusta and son Peter and, later, by another friend, Fritz Pfeffer.
You learn that Anne, her family and the rest never would’ve survived for more than two years if not for outside help. Four men (Johannes Kleiman, Victor Kugler, Jan Gies and Johan Voskuijl) and two women (Voskuijl’s daughter Bep and Gies wife, Miep) brought them food, reading materials and medicine. They risked their own safety to help whenever and however they could.
A few weeks before the Franks went into hiding, Anne received a red-checked diary on her 13th birthday. That, of course, was the renowned diary Jewish children learn about in Hebrew school. It’s when we first hear the story of Anne Frank and wonder how this was all possible.
Whether you’ve read her diary or seen the 1959 movie based on it, there’s a good chance you know the story. According to the young Dutch woman who conducted the audio tour and was not Jewish, she was around 9 when she first heard about it.
Museum officials say they have no idea how many of those million-plus annual visitors are Jewish. They only ask for ages and nationalities.
After going through the timeline, hearing a haunting 1960 recording made by Otto Frank upon seeing his factory and the place where he hid his family until they were captured by the Gestapo on Aug. 4, 1944, become a museum, the audio tour ends.
For the 7 p.m. block of visitors to the Anne Frank Huis, as it’s marked outside the green front door, it’s finally time to see where Anne and her family hid.
The anticipation has built for this moment ever since the trip was booked months ago. Before entering through the same bookcase that kept them protected, you’re told photographs are not permitted.
Once inside, you find an array of photos — including ones Anne pasted on the wall of her room that she shared with Fritz Pfeffer — videos and quotes on the walls in every room.
There are interviews with some of the helpers who tell what it was like. Among them is Miep Gies, who held on to Anne’s diary and other writing after she was captured and eventually handed them to Otto Frank when he returned from captivity in 1945 and learned that his daughters had died.
As you continue, you’ll even see the original wall markings that charted Anne and Margot’s growth, as well as a memorial book listing the names of all Jewish victims deported from the Netherlands during the war.
It doesn’t take long to go through the museum. But as you walk through, seeing how small it is, wondering how eight people lived in such a confined space for so long, it gives you a truer appreciation of their ordeal.
This is what Anne Frank wrote about in her diary. This is what kept her going as she imagined what her life might be like under different circumstances.
“We’re all searching for happiness,” she wrote. “We’re all leading lives that are different and yet the same.”
She became a “hostage” soon after that, who sadly was not rescued like many of the Israelis already have been. Nearly 80 years later, her home remains a reminder of the rampant antisemitism and cruelty so prevalent at that time.
Always an optimist, it would surely sadden Anne Frank to realize that not much has changed since.
Jon Marks is a Philadelphia-area freelance writer.
