If Ron Chernow’s book The Warburgs were a bank, it would certainly fail. His high-interest bearing account, that of a Jewish banking dynasty that stretches back six generations to pre-industrial Europe, is bloated and inefficient. Chernow exhibits no economy of words nor judicious standards for what to include versus what to cut. And there are enough adjectives deposited in the book’s 700+ pages to make administrators of even the stingiest of deposit insurance schemes wince. Thankfully for the reader, though, it’s a book, not a bank. And an engrossing one at that.
The early history of the Warburg family is obscured by the shadows of time. Chernow traces the first “certifiable” ancestor to 16th century Westphalia, near to the geographic center of the modern German state. He dismisses as fanciful any suggestions that the family is of Sephardic stock or that its roots can be traced back to late Medieval Venice. A number of more contemporaneous sources present the Warburg-Venice connection as factual, though it’s unclear if this reflects a more up-to-date genealogical scholarship or the internet’s unique ability to perpetuate and magnify a myth.
If indeed Chernow’s first ‘Warburg’, Simon von Cassel (d. 1566), had migrated from Venice around that time, it was likely to escape the harsh conditions placed on the Venetian republic’s Jewish residents at the time. It also could be the case that the early family had Ashkenzi roots in German speaking lands and found it commercially useful to be associated with the prominent Venetian del Banco banking family, which itself may have been the product of exiled Jews fleeing central Europe. Whether owing to foreign connections or more local success, Simon von Cassel had obviously achieved some measure of prominence when he was designated a protected Jew in the town of Warburg, a status which allowed him to do both money changing and pawn broking business.
A little over a century later the successful descendants of Simon von Cassel outgrew the provincial town whose namesake they had adopted and moved north to the neighboring German-speaking port cities of Altona and Hamburg. The former was then ruled by the Danish crown and Jewish residents enjoyed a number of privileges that would have made business conditions more favorable than those that Jews in other jurisdictions faced. Hamburg, meanwhile, was a leading Hanseatic city ruled by a relatively enlightened and democratic merchant class. Its maritime connections to Scandinavia, the British Isles, and the rest of Europe, by the 18th century, lended an international air to the bustling city and it is there in which story of the modern Warburgs really begins.
In 1798 two Warburg brothers converted the small money changing business that their father had bequeathed to them into the M.M. Warburg & Co. bank. The Napoleonic Wars soon followed, a turn of events that would prove fortuitous for both the Jews of Hamburg and for the Warburg bank as well. For, along with the occupation of Napoleon’s troops in 1806, came the ideals of the French Revolution, especially the principle of equality under the law. Hamburg’s Jews suddenly enjoyed rights they had never before known, especially with regard to property dealings.
When the French left Hamburg in 1814 they took with them the massive stores of silver the city had accumulated through its vibrant international trade. The Warburg bank using its own international connections coordinated with the Rothschild banking family in Vienna to replenish silver to the Hamburg markets and in the process gained the goodwill of the city’s traders. Over the next half century the city grew at a rapid pace, especially as transatlantic passenger lines opened up. The Jewish community also grew quickly, numbering 16,000 by the century’s midpoint. The Warburgs assumed a prominent role in both a city in which “business was its secular religion”, that according to Chernow, and in a Jewish community whose prospects were on the rise, especially following the creation of the German state in 1871.
Chernow tells this early history of the family in its completeness in the first 20 pages of the book. After that, though, things slow down and the chronological narrative turns to the lives of the leading Warburg figures, including the brothers Siegmund (1835-1889) and Moritz (1838-1910) who together would lead the bank from the founding of Germany until nearly the outbreak of the first world war. Siegmund married eastward to the daughter of an aristocratic Russian Jew in Kiev. Moritz, on the other hand, married the stolid daughter of Frankfurt jewelers. From there two branches of the family would emerge from history, the Alsterufers and the Mittelwegs, so-called because of the respective streets which they built their houses on in Hamburg.
The Mittelweg Warburgs enjoyed an early measure of genealogical good fortune. Four of their five boys enjoyed immense success in a number of different fields. The eldest son, Aby, was an avid bibliophile and family legend has it that while still in grammar school, he made a deal with second son Max that Max could inherit the bank if he promised to supply Aby with books in perpetuity. Aby went on to become one of the leading art historians of the early 20th century while Max, with a very large book bill, took over the bank and became one of the leading commercial bankers of Weimar Germany. Younger brothers Felix and Paul both married into a prominent Wall Street family and migrated to America. Felix would become one of the leading Jewish philanthropists of the 20th century and today the neo-gothic mansion which he had built for his own family on 5th Avenue is home to New York’s Jewish Museum. Brother Paul was instrumental in the founding of the Federal Reserve and guided that institution through World War I.
The Alsterufer Warburgs faded from the scene after the death of their patriarch Siegmund, and in fact lost much of their interest in the M.M. Warburg bank by the 1920s. When Siegmund’s grandson, Siegmund George, arrived in Hamburg from rural southern Germany to do an internship at the M.M. Warburg bank in 1923, he was considered the country cousin who it was easy to look down upon. Quickly, though, he would establish himself as the smartest and most competent Warburg businessman of his generation. Chernow spends the last quarter of the book charting his rise in very minute detail. Of all the characters in the book, it’s Siegmund the Younger alone who embodied the best of the entire family and ultimately his material success would overshadow that of his Mittelweg uncles and cousins. It’s fitting, then, that Chernow does such a good job in his rendering of the man who would play such an influential role in turning London back into one of the world’s leading financial centers through his own S.G. Warburg Bank.
The family profiles are interesting, sometimes humorous, and do a good job of showing just how diverse one family can be, but the real value in reading this book is found in some of the larger themes that span the entire narrative. For me, there were three. First, Chernow thoroughly documents the nearly unseverable tie between German Jews and Germany, even despite recurrent anti-Semitism and the tragedy of the Shoah. The Warburgs profoundly loved German culture and thought it far superior to Anglo cultures. Several Warburgs served in the German military before and during World War I. Eric Warburg, served in both world wars, the first on the side of Germany, the second for the United States. After his service for the Americans he returned to Germany and eventually regained control of the M.M. Warburg Bank which was ‘aryanized’ in 1938. Chernow writes, “The Warburgs never believed that the human spark entirely died among the German people, and this gave them hope of a renewal someday.”
A second major theme which Chernow articulates is the way in which the material success of one generation distorts ambition in the subsequent generation. None of the six second generation Mittelweg Warburgs, four of whom met with so much success, would see the next generation rise to their lofty heights. While the dislocations owing to Hitler’s rise in Germany undoubtedly played a role, the phenomena of under-achievement held true even for that next generation of American-born Warburgs. While that generation still enjoyed privileged access to leading political and culture figures such as Franklin Roosevelt, George Gershwin, Adlai Stevenson, Averell Harriman, Chaim Weizmann, Konrad Adenauer, and Helmut Schmidt, all of whom are mentioned in the book, the children of the Mittelweg boys never rose to the lofty heights in finance, philanthropy, public service, or scholarship that their fathers had.
Finally, it was interesting to read about the growing secularization of the family over time. The parents of Siegmund and Moritz, born in the early 1800s, were highly observant and refused to travel to places such as Scandinavia where they could not keep kosher. Just three generations later, the majority of the Warburg children would marry outside the faith and the family’s Judaism, by the 1950s, would seem almost incidental to their larger identities as heirs to a German banking family. Another related theme that Chernow gives its due was the family’s complicated relationship with Zionism. Very few in the family fully embraced Zionist political aims, though after the founding of Israel, most did support its goals. A few family members made their homes in Israel, but there was always a certain unease about the Israeli state, and especially, according to Chernow, its treatment of its Arab population.
Besides the larger themes that Chernow elucidates so thoroughly, there are unfortunately a number of quirks that detract from the overall presentation. First, Chernow loves to read psychological traits and temporary dispositions into old photographs. While some of his analyses are compelling, the more he engages in the habit, the less convincing the enterprise feels. Another strange thing that he uses, perhaps to link the large number of characters that inevitably come out of an extended family over multiple generations, is to combine the names of husband and wife pairs into a single word. Thus we get absurdities such as Friedaflix (Frieda and Felix), Malice (Max and Alice), and Paulina (Paul and Nina). Chernow does include a family tree, but it’s not complete, perhaps owing to some parts of the living family’s wish to remain anonymous when the book was published in 1992. But there were also distant cousins mentioned, especially from the Altona Warburgs and the Swedish Warburgs. I would have liked an expanded family tree.
Those are minor complaints, though. Overall this is a really interesting book. The time investment spent on it, which is considerable, is well worth it, especially if you have in interest in German history, banking and finance, the gilded age “Our Crowd”, or the human tragedy of Nazism. I have to admit, though, after turning the last page, I felt like I had closed the book on a small part of my own family that I had only recently come to know. Jeffrey L. Otto © May 3, 2015