In the last two articles, I recounted the discovery of information about the skilled photographer Willi Pollak, whose career spanned the 1920s to the 1940s. Through his naturalization file, I traced his harrowing journey from a Gestapo prison in Austria to eventual freedom in Canada, where he worked for the famous celebrity photographer Yousuf Karsh. I also located Willi’s step-daughter who kindly described his last years in Ottawa.

Working with the Canadian Jewish Congress, Willi was finally released from the Canadian internment camp where he had been confined for two years. He was initially employed at the New Paramount Studios in Toronto. This firm convinced the Canadian government to release Willi, arguing that the increased demand for portraits by soldiers required additional staff with specialized skills, such as Willi’s. Significantly, they asserted that “Portrait Photography plays an important part in the present national emergency.” Despite scepticism from the Jewish Congress that this qualified as war work, Willi was eventually released by the government and employed at the studio.

Through the sponsorship program of the Congress, Willi met a widow with two small children. He courted her and must have charmed her, for he wrote in 1943 that she was anxious to marry; however, Willi was ambitious and first wanted to acquire his own studio.

After six months at Paramount, Willi took a job at Karsh’s Ottawa studio as the darkroom technician, making prints of Karsh’s images to exacting specifications. For two particular portraits, there are direct references to Willi. These photos are at the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery (Madame Chiang Kai-Shek, First Lady of China) and Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts (Mr. Henry Luce, publisher of Time-Life). Certainly, Willi printed many well-known photos, however there is no other known documentation, as Karsh did not credit his staff.

Eventually, Willi married the widow, in a small ceremony, and moved the family to Ottawa. His young step-daughter was very fond of him and later remembered him as a fine person and a kind man. It seems his chain-smoking was the only behaviour which may have betrayed the stresses of his past traumas. Perhaps this new family life reminded Willi of the early years with his eldest daughter, who had stayed in Austria with his non-Jewish first wife.

Willi was industrious. Although he was earning $34.65/week in 1944 from Karsh (equivalent to $494.34 today), Willi also opened his own little business. Did the financial pressure of supporting a family cause him to convert rooms in their home on Sunnyside Avenue into a studio? Maybe his fundamental artistic urge was not satisfied by his day job as an anonymous technician confined to the darkroom; possibly he longed to once again be solely responsible for creating a treasured portrait and inscribing it with his own signature. Willi’s clientele included consulate staff and their families. These bureaucrats may not have been able to acquire a Karsh portrait, but they could commission a photograph from his associate.

Following years of persecution and sorrow, Willi had regained success and happiness. He had an esteemed position in his profession, working for a renowned photographer. In addition, Willi had returned to his artistic vocation and his singular skill was appreciated. He had settled down, surrounded by the love of a second family. He applied for citizenship in his new country and two years later, in March 1946, he was sworn in as a Canadian. Life was good. But, alas, it was too short. Willi died seven months later, at the age of 46, of a heart attack which he suffered one evening at home.

For ages, I had struggled to uncover the story of Willi Pollak. Two decades of intermittent research finally culminated in my discovery of a critical document, his naturalization file. Using this, I was able to trace his odyssey from war-torn Europe to eventual freedom in Canada. During this investigation, I was forced to confront a distressing tale of persecution and tragedy. I found blame could not be confined to the convenient villains of history, but must be assigned to “the good guys” as well, including my very own country. Fortunately, my inquiry also unveiled the identity of Willi’s step-daughter. Her generously shared recollections brought to light Willi’s resilience and ultimate triumph.

This article was originally printed in the BERGEN NEWS and is being reprinted with permission.