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Samuel and Helena Langer Smulowitz's wedding photo. (PHOTOS COURTESY OF LIPSKY FAMILY)
Three weeks ago, at one of the most infamous Nazi concentration camps on German soil, President Barack Obama finished a speech honoring the Holocaust victims and survivors, then pulled 23-year-old Josh Lipsky into a warm embrace.

For the Jewish Lipsky, a part-time Monterey resident now working in Washington as a presidential aide, the moment was the culmination of an emotional visit to the prison known as Buchenwald. This, he understood, was a place of unimaginable horrors — and one of the locations where an extraordinary family love story had its origins.

It began almost six decades ago, when Lipsky's maternal grandmother, Helena Langer, a prisoner at a nearby prison camp called Grosarna, sang a song as she walked toward her barracks. That was her crime.

Enraged SS guards attacked her with a German shepherd and beat her so savagely that she had to be transferred to the infirmary at a Buchenwald sub-camp. Too badly injured to be useful in hard labor, she was placed on a list of prisoners to be transferred to Auschwitz, where she would almost certainly be exterminated.

Prisoner Samuel Smulowitz was a cook at the sub-camp, a job that afforded him unusual freedom of movement as he delivered food to those who were injured or ill. That's how he met Helena in 1941.

Her broken body was of no use in the hard-labor camps, and Samuel used his connections in the prison to get her a job in the camp office. She worked for a man who she later learned was the notorious


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Adolf Eichmann — widely regarded as the architect of the Holocaust.

Fate intervened

Her job lasted until the Nazis came up with their Final Solution, deciding to close the sub-camp and transfer all Jewish prisoners to Auschwitz for extermination.

"As the person who worked in that office, my mother had to type her own name on that list," said Miriam Lipsky, Josh's mother, who goes by her middle name, Gabriela. She also had to type Samuel's name.

"As she marched to the trains that day with the other prisoners, my mother remembered people looking down at them from their windows and crying," Gabriela said. "In the midst of all of the horror and hate, she realized there were actually some Germans who cared. She got a sense that there was still some humanity left in the world."

But fate intervened — or perhaps it was Samuel. As Helena stood at the depot with other prisoners to be loaded onto a cattle car on the Auschwitz-bound train, Samuel Smulowitz found a spot next to her. "Do not react to this news in any way, and don't tell anyone else," he whispered to her. "We're not going."

A man who operated a factory where the prisoners worked had insisted — perhaps at the urging of Samuel and others — that he needed some of the prisoners to stay. Helena and Samuel were two who remained behind when the train left, and were sent to another sub-camp instead.

Postwar search

It was while they were there that Smulowitz did a risky and gut-wrenching thing to save the woman he planned to marry someday.

"He substituted my grandmother' s name with the name of a dying woman, who went to Auschwitz in her place," Lipsky told the Los Angeles Times.

Lipsky declined to be interviewed for this article.

In 1942, Helena was transferred to a women's camp called Petas Valda, and Samuel was sent to the main camp at Buchenwald. They lost track of one another. When all the concentration camps were liberated three years later, her search began for the man who had promised to marry her.

"Her sisters (Esther and Hannah) tried to discourage her, and introduced her to other men. Every list she found and every authority she spoke to told her he had died," Gabriela Lipsky said. "She carried his photograph with her from town to town in Germany and Poland, following rumors, asking people if they'd seen him. People kept telling her he was dead, but she refused to give up."

Streetcar reunion

In the spring of 1946, Helena's search took her to Munich — somebody thought he was seen there — where she boarded a streetcar with a friend. She was standing near the front of the car, showing his photo to strangers, when her friend momentarily disappeared into the crowd.

"Where are you?" Helena shouted.

"I'm here," said a man who was standing behind her. "You don't need to look any further."

Samuel Smulowitz had been sitting on the back of the streetcar.

According to an hours-long memoir Helena recorded late in life for a Holocaust organization, he had been recovering from typhoid fever — perhaps the result of medical experiments conducted by the Nazis, Gabriela says — which apparently is why his name was on so many death lists.

Kosher butcher

Weeks after reuniting, Helena and Samuel were married in Deggendorf, Germany. They immigrated to the United States, and settled first in Tucson, Ariz., before moving to Louisville, Ky.

"He'd been a jockey before the war and heard there were horses in Kentucky, but he worked as a kosher butcher in Louisville," said Gabriela, who was raised there with her sister, Anna — born in Germany and now a resident of Newburyport, Mass. — and her brother, Jerry, who lives today with cousins in Metulla, Israel.

Samuel Smulowitz died in 1975; Helena passed away in 1991. Their grandson's recent visit to Buchenwald — a place where more than 50,000 Jews died, including 8,000 executed by SS guards with gunshots to the back of the head — was an event of monumental poignancy to the Lipsky family.

At one point during his tour, a guide pried a door off its rusty hinges to take Josh inside the tiny kitchen. Lipsky stood in that small, airless room, under a potato chute, and suddenly felt overwhelmed.

"My grandfather would have stood there, under that potato chute. Some SS guard, or maybe another prisoner, would have thrown a bag of potatoes down to him," Lipsky told The Los Angeles Times. "That's the moment when I knew I was standing in my grandfather' s place."

Aide to the president

Among Adolf Hitler's objectives was to exterminate the Jewish race. Lipsky, a graduate of Columbia University who has been accepted to the Georgetown University School of Law, understood that he represented two generations of that failed quest as he stood at Buchenwald. So did his proud mom.

"Hitler's whole point was to kill us all. He didn't want future generations of Jewish people," Gabriela said. "Not only did the grandson of Samuel and Helena Smulowitz go back to Buchenwald, but he went there as an aide to the president of the United States."

But it's not as if there weren't hints as he grew up that Josh Lipsky might one day wind up in such a position. At age 8, he'd sit with his father on Sunday mornings and watch "Meet The Press" and "Face The Nation."

Community service

He was elected president of his student council as a fifth-grader, president of his class as a ninth-grader, and president of the student body as a high school senior. He earned community service credit in high school by giving Bar Mitzvah lessons.

As a student at Columbia, he interned at "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart," and at CNN, where he later became a part-time employee.

He also did a three-year internship for Rep. Sam Farr, D-Carmel, whom he met as a ninth-grader at one of Farr's town hall meetings.

"Josh actually raised his hand at that meeting and asked a question — I don't even remember what he asked — and afterward, he walked up to Congressman Farr and asked how he could become an intern," said his father, Sam Lipsky, a civilian administrator for the U.S. Department of Defense at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey.

White House opportunity

Last year Josh worked as an advance man on Obama's presidential campaign, and was set to enter law school at Georgetown when the newly inaugurated president offered him a full-time job.

Georgetown Law School offered to defer his acceptance for a year to allow him to take the position at the White House, but Sam and Gabriela Lipsky were undecided about what advice to give their son about choosing between two dream-come-true opportunities.

"At first, I was hoping he'd go straight into law school, but since Georgetown is willing to wait a year for him, I can't really see a downside to working at the White House for the president of the United States," his dad said. "And, to be honest, I guess I'm enjoying living vicariously through his adventures."

Courage and resilience

That Josh and his parents are living at all is a tribute to the courage and resilience of his grandparents, Samuel and Helena Langer Smulowitz, Gabriela says.

"It's hard to even describe how much it meant to me that my son went back to Buchenwald with the president," she said. "It brought me back in touch with my parents' lives, and what they went through. They survived five years in those prison camps, and it's hard to believe they survived at all. They were very strong and very lucky.

"Whenever I feel like I'm having a bad day, I think about them and my little problems don't seem very important anymore."