Breitscheidplatz

Lev Bergelson on His Father

»He often spent his evenings in the Romanisches Café at the Memorial Church, which was the meeting place for the Berlin bohemian scene. Although he was not a coffeehouse writer, the
atmosphere of the café held a great attraction for him. Its regulars included many artists and well-known Berlin figures and he also met friends from his Kiev days there. The Romanisches Café offered more than just chats over coffee and tea. Many of the customers wrote poems, read proofs, or played chess in its rooms. My father played several games of chess with world champion Emanuel Lasker. When, as usual, my father was forced to explain what a great honor it was to lose to Lasker, the latter would comfort him with the words: ›In all humility, I agree.‹«

Lev Bergelson, Erinnerungen an meinen Vater, in: David Bergelson, Leben ohne Frühling (Berlin, 2000), p. 284

Ilya Ehrenburg on the Romanisches Café

»I am writing this letter from the Romanisches Café. This is a very respectable place. It resembles a staff headquarters for fanatical vagabonds, everyday folk, and the educated crooks
who have been entirely cured of narrow-minded nationalism.... I don't know why all these people live in Berlin! Foreign currency, passport visas? … Immigrants or thrifty tourists? At any rate, they're all dissatisfied with Berlin and seize every opportunity to get angry at it. Particularly the Russians, who consider it a good style. I don’t want you to think I’m attempting to be witty. I'm afraid you won't believe me—it obviously sounds paradoxical: I have grown fond of Berlin.«

Ilya Ehrenburg, Visum der Zeit (Frankfurt am Main, 1983), 44f. (First edition: Berlin, 1930)

Article by David Einhorn

»Forgotten is the Romanishes Café and the ten Yiddish writers who fought over the tiresome style of Yiddish literature. The few dozen Yiddish activists who drank black coffee every night, and made plans for how to rescue the Jewish people. The Jewish publishing houses—that grew like mushrooms after the rain and later fell like flies in autumn—that had published translations of highly philosophical works and highly enlightened novels, specifically for the American reader, who never received them. And if he had he never would have read them, because Germans don’t read them either.«

David Einhorn, Warum sich jetzt so viele Juden in Paris niederlassen - Farwos jiden basezen sich izt asoj fiel in paris (jiddisch), in: Forwerz (New York), November 15, 1925

Letter by Yeshayahu Klinow

»Berlin is perhaps the only Jewish city in the world where, for years, an atmosphere has been created in which Jews could congregate, live together, get closer and learn from each other—without that hatred and the conflicts that are ever present in even our smallest communities [...].  Is this because a bizarre curiosity has brought them here, to the banks of the Spree River, Jews who think alike and share the same goals, and belong to the same school of thought? Certainly not! [...] Often, it is not the narrow table at the ›Romanisches Café‹ or the ›Café Trumf‹ that separates our worldviews, but a deeper ideological chasm. But this is the reality—we understand each other—and I even dare say we have respect for our competitors [...]. [...] In taking stock I see that this »luxury« can’t be afforded everywhere.«

Jeschajahu Klinow, Ein Brief an Daniel Charney – A briw zu Daniel Tscharnin (jiddisch), in: Jidische Schtime (Kowno), Dezember 27, 1932