Subtitles section Play video Print subtitles Who do you want to be today? (Imitating Franklin Delano Roosevelt) We have nothing to fear but fear itself! (Imitating Bette Davis) Fasten your seat-belts. It's going to be a very bumpy ride. (Imitating Rocky Balboa) Yo, Adrienne! I'm gonna fight Apollo again, you know what I mean? (Imitating James Cagney) You dirty rat! (Imitating Winston Churchill) We shall never surrender! (Imitating Joan Rivers), Uho! Can we talk? (Imitating Clark Gable) Frankly, Scarlet, I don't give a damn. (Imitating Rodney Dangerfield) I get no respect. Narrator: Slip into the lives of the some of the world's most fascinating people. Watch A & E's Biography and escape the ordinary. (Imitating, Marlon Brando) I could've been somebody charming. [music] From A& E, this is Biography. Anne: You've known for a long time that my greatest wish is to be a journalist and later on a famous writer. Man: She became world famous because of her diary, but she also became world famous because she died in a concentration camp, because she was Jewish. Woman: She's so real, and she's so alive, and I think that pulls you, just like a magnet. Woman: She was popular with everybody. She made fun, and she wanted the attention of the boys, yes, and they liked her. Woman: I really thought she was a little spoiled, but I don't think she thought so herself. Man: She was a real 100%-real girl like everybody else, like all the other girls, with the exception that she had a great talent for writing. Man: Nobody was able to touch every part of life, and all . . . and religion . . . in her book. Woman: She was a writer, you know and a writer often finds survival in, in writing. Anne: I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness. I hear the approaching thunder that one day will destroy us too. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I will be able to realize them. Narrator: The life of Annalise Marie Frank began on June 12, 1929 in Frankfurt Am Main, Germany. Anne, as they called her, was the second daughter of Otto and Edith Hollander Frank. She was a happy baby, doted on by her elder sister, Margo, and surrounded by family and friends. She was lucky enough to be unaware of the terrible political climate outside the boundaries of her grassy backyard. Her parents were both from prominent families, and Otto had even been decorated as a German Officer in World War 1. But as German as they felt, they were also Jewish, and in the late 1920's, as Germany suffered through a devastating economic collapse, Jewish was an increasingly dangerous thing to be. [Hitler speaking in German] When Adolf Hitler, the leader of the Extreme Nationalist Nazi Party. was elected Chancellor of Germany, on a platform of racial purity. Otto Frank decided his daughters might be safer somewhere else. Otto Frank: We left Germany in 1933, because I didn't want to educate my children with splinkas. They were not allowed to see Christian friends anymore. In Holland, it was different. Narrator: Holland had been neutral in the last war, so Amsterdam seemed to be a safe haven. Otto, an experienced businessman, quickly set up a company there, selling pectin, a key ingredient in making homemade jam. and sent for his family. One of the first people four-year old Anne met in Amsterdam was his assistant, Miep Gies. Miep Gies: It was in the winter. Mr. Frank said to me, my wife, and my youngest daughter came in the office, and yes, Mrs. Frank with her with Anne, came in. Anne, dressed in a white fur coat, a little shy, and then she looked 'round in the office, type machines, look out the window, and so, it was very nice. The Franks, moved into a modern housing complex on the Merwedeplein in South Amsterdam a neighborhood filling up with other Jewish refugees from Germany. Anne was quick to make friends at her new school. She was lively and outspoken, and she had a trick of dislocating her shoulder for a laugh from her classmates. Woman: You know, Anne was a very special girl. She, in America, maybe you say, spicy? Emm, uhmm, girl that knows everything. My mother would describe her very good. She would say, "God knows everything. Anne knows everything better." Narrator: Anne's father indulged her chatter about movie stars, about her throngs of admirers, but her mother wondered why Anne couldn't behave more like her older sister, Margo. Margo was, by most accounts, perfect, and Anne knew that she could never measure up. Hannah Pick-Goslar: Margo maybe was even more special than Anna. She was a very good looking girl, very obedient and a very good scholar. Jaqueline Van Maarsen, childhood friend: And Anne was jealous because Margo was always their beautiful girl, and she was so neat, and so I know that she was jealous because Margo and the Mother were very much together. Anne was not so easy girl. She was difficult. Probably her mother told her so. Narrator: Just after Anne turned 10, her own battles on the homefront were overshadowed by war. Hitler's army's were were on the move, and it was soon apparent that no corner of Europe was safe. On May 10, 1940, a month before Anne's 11th birthday Hitler invaded the Netherlands. Here, as in Germany and the rest of Europe, as special fury would be directed at Jews. Soon, Jews had to register with the German authorities and every day, it seemed, had to relinquish more of their rights. In 1941, Anne and Margo had to switch schools to the Jewish Lyceum. That, they didn't mind, but the Germans were making life more and more difficult. Hannah Pick-Goslar: Everything that was fun in life was forbidden. To sit in a park or at the bench, there would be written For Jews and For Dogs - Forbidden. Jaqueline Van Maarsen: We couldn't go to the park we couldn't go to the swimming pool, we couldn't go the theatre. Narrator: Despite the suffocating restrictions, Otto Frank, whom Anne thought the most adorable father in the world, never failed to find some bright spots in all the gloom. Hannah PIck-Goslar: Mr. Frank really was a very, very nice man. He was wonderful. He was always optimistic. Also later, when the war started, my father always said everything will be bad, and the Germans will win the war, and then Mr. Frank came in and, "Everything will be OK," and, "The Americans will help," and,"No, don't speak like this." Narrator: But beneath his optimism, Otto Frank was laying plans, in case everything was not okay. One morning, in 1942, he asked his assistant, Miep Gies, to speak to him privately. Miep Gies: Upon the morning, he asked me to come in his office, and said, "I have to speak with you something." My, uh, wife and my children, we want to go in, uh, in hiding, and I listened to him. Are you willing to, uh, care for us with food and other things? and I said, I would, yes, of course! It was very dangerous, yes, I know, but it was my choice. Otto Frank: The people I worked with were really friends, and when the time came, that we had to try to hide, I first spoke to Mr. Coopers, whom I knew already, for many, many, years, as a very straight, real, good Dutch man, and Coopers immediately said, "Well, the best thing would be we would hide here in our office building." After Coopers, I talked with Miep. Miep, I knew very, very well too. She agreed, and then we talked to Mr. Kraler. He agreed, and then we talked to Ellie. So, the four of them all were prepared to help us in case of hiding. Narrator: Anne knew nothing of her father's preparations. She had other things on her mind: in particular, a 16-year-old admirer, Hello Silverberg. Hello Silverberg: Umm, I kind of, I was attracted to her. but when people often ask this question about, uh-uh, a 16-year-old boy being interested in a 13-year-old girl and, uh, uh, it happens, and she was fascinating. She was very articulate, and I wasn't used to that kind of intellect in somebody that young. Narrator: Anne had a reputation at school for being a bit too articulate. She was much more interested in flirting than algebra, and as punishment for being an incorrigible chatterbox, she had to write essays and poems, defending herself, which she thoroughly enjoyed, and she kept right on talking. Hannah Pick-Goslar: And in that school, we were sitting always together and we were chatting, and then one day, they took me out and the next class. Next morning, who sits next to me again: Anne. And the teachers let us live. I think they knew already, we don't have a lot of time left. Jacquline Van Maarsen: Can you say it was cozy in that classroom? Perhaps that's right word? Because we all had the same fate. We knew that outside, terrible things were happening, and even the teachers, we were very close. Narrator: Very little was certain in occupied Amsterdam, but at least Anne could count on her adorable father to keep birthdays sacred. On June 12, 1942, the day Anne turned thirteen, her Father set out a pile of presents for her party. Anne was most excited about the one she had picked out herself, a red and white checkered diary. Van Maarsen: Well, she was, of course, very excited at that party, that people were coming for each of them for a party, and with sparkling eyes, she looked at the presents but she was - her most important present was her diary and that, I remember that so well. And afterwards, when everybody had gone, and we were there together, arranging her presents, I couldn't find her diary. She already had put it somewhere else. Narrator: By that time, Anne's favorite present was already hidden in her room with Anne's inscription already in it. Anne: I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone. And I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support. Narrator: Within a matter of weeks, Anne would need that comfort far more than she knew. On Sunday, the 5th of July 1942, a few weeks after her 13th birthday, Anne Frank was sunning herself on her roof when she heard the doorbell ring down stairs. She hoped it was a visit from her beau, Hello Silbergerg. It was not. It was a Nazi order for her sister, Margo, to be taken the next day to what they called a labor camp in the east. It was the moment her family had been dreading. The next day, Anne's friends came by as usual to her apartment at 37 Merwedeplein. Pick-Gosslar: And we were ringing and ringing, and nobody opens the door, and at the end, the tenant, Mr. Goudsmit, he opens the door. And he looked at us as if he had never seen us, I mean, he knew for nine years. "What do you want?" I said, "We want to play with Anne, like always." And then he said, "What you don't know is the Frank family went to Switzerland." Van Maarsen: And then we went into the house, and everything was upside down, and everything had always been so neat in that house. I saw Anne's room, and the bed was not made, and the shoes that she had just received, and she was so proud of, when she left them, and I thought, "How is it possible that she left these shoes?" But, well, she didn't need shoes of course. Narrator: Though she had left her shoes, Anne had taken her most important birthday present with her. The diary was with Anne, and Anne and her family were in the hiding place Otto Frank had carefully chosen, his office at 263 Prinsengracht. From the outside, no one would know they were there. Once they stepped through the secret door, they were in a three-story back building with two living floors and an attic. These few rooms would be home, until the war was over, or they were discovered. The Franks were soon joined in the Annex by Otto's partner, Hermann van Pels, his wife, Auguste, and their 16-year-old son, Peter, and later, a dentist, Fritz Pfeffer. They all had to follow strict rules to stay safe. No one was allowed to use the faucet, or flush the toilet during the day. They had to speak in whispers and walk in stocking feet. Only at night could they sneak down to office and listen to the radio. Worst of all, Anne, the chatterbox, had no one to talk to. Van Maarsen: She must have been so bored to be all by herself, but I think that her diary was a compensation. and that's why, Kitty, she made Kitty her friend. Narrator: Kitty, the name Anne gave her diary, became more than her only friend. She was a life saver, in the endless stretches of quiet, Anne was at least able to chatter away to Kitty. Anne: Gorgeous, isn't it? Oh, what a joke! Whatever next? Hello! Yes, I'm fine. Narrator: Anne tried to be good, but she knew she was often annoying, she had a hundred opinions at any given moment. She was sassy, argumentative, and fidgety. Confined in the tight quarters, she raged against her mother, resented comparison with her perfectly quiet sister, and railed at the disapproving van Pelses. She was trapped. They were all trapped, day in and day out. All anyone could do was study, read, or write in rooms darkened by the blackout shades. Anne fought the gloom by plastering her postcard collection and movie star pictures on the walls, but the constant feared isolation kept the rest of the Annex in a state of depression. They all lived for the daily visits from their helpers from the office below. Miep Gies: It was an awful moment for me, because I feel so, their dependence on us helpers. Outside in, Anne stand in the front and said with a cheerful tone, " Hello, Miep!" and "What is the news?" Anne: Dear Kitty, Today I have nothing but dismal and depressing news to report. Our many Jewish friends and acquaintances are being taken away in droves. We assume that most of them are being murdered. The English radio says they're being gassed. Narrator: Anne fought despair by continuing to grow in the only direction she could, inward. She grew large and wise in the pages of her diary. Anne: I've often been down in the dumps but never desperate. I look upon our life in hiding as an interesting adventure, full of danger and romance, and every privation as an amusing addition to my diary. I've made up my mind to lead a different life from other girls. What I'm experiencing here is a good beginning to an interesting life. Wendy Kesselman: That she could find that beauty and all that passion and everything within that dark and enclosed space is a miracle really. There's something miraculous about it. Narrator: As their months in the Annex stretched into a year, and that stretched into two, Anne even managed to find love in that small space with the only boy around, Peter. She started spending hours with him in the attic. As they stared out window at their chestnut tree, romance blossomed, and Anne got her first kiss. but she quickly realized that Peter was no match for her. Anne: Peter still has too little character, too little willpower, too little courage and strength. He's still a child, emotionally no older that I am. All he wants is happiness and peace of mind. Am I really only 14? van Maarsen: I feel so sorry for her. She must have been very lonely because this boy, Peter, was her friend, but she didn't get much out of him. I think was not a real, could not have been a real friendship. Narrator: Kitty was still her true friend, and possibly her ticket to the life she dreamed of. On March 29, 1944, Anne heard an announcement on the radio, calling on Dutch citizens to save their letters and diaries for publication after the war. Anne: Of course, everyone pounced on my diary. Just imagine how interesting it would be if I were to publish a novel about the Secret Annex. The title alone would make people think it was a detective story. Narrator: Anne realized now she had a goal: she wanted to be a published writer. She set to work immediately revising her diary. Miep Gies: Once, I catched her during writing her diary. This moment I will never forget because there was another Anne. Narrator: This Anne was not the child they were all used to. Anne, the writer, was ferocious about protecting her privacy and serious about her work. Meip Gies: We didn't also not know what a very um intelligent child she was. We did not know that because there were always the fear to care for eleven people, every day, and, most of all, the danger. Narrator: The danger seemed to be closing in. Several times, burglars broke into the downstairs warehouse. It was even more terrifying when investigative police came all the way up to the bookcase that concealed their hiding place. They cowered in their beds as Allied bombing raids and German anti-aircraft fire broke the darkness, but their spirits soared when in June 1944, they heard about the D-Day invasion on the radio. After two long years in hiding, they hoped the Allies might beat the Nazis to their front door, but Anne had a premonition that the worst might still come. [Nazi speaking German over the radio] Anne: I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness. I hear the approaching thunder that one day will destroy us too. I feel the suffering of millions, and yet, when I look up to the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I will be able to realize them. Narrator: On August 1, 1944, Anne made her last entry in her diary. She would not get the chance to write the rest of her story. Three days later, this chapter would end. August 4, 1944 started out as a beautiful morning, the sort that made Anne Frank and the others in the Secret Annex long to be in the fresh air after two years in hiding. In these summer days, their constant fear of discovery was mixed with hope. The Allied invasion of Europe was underway, and it seemed that maybe, just maybe, they would be out soon. [siren] They would be out sooner than they knew. That morning, Anne Frank and her family had been betrayed, through an anonymous tip. Miep Gies: I did not heard the door, but was standing a man with a gun. "Please don't speak. No loud." Now you can understand how we shocked. I could not speak. Edith too. Mr. Kugler spoke it first. He said to me, "Miep, it is the time." Narrator: The Nazis knew exactly where they were going. They walked right up to the bookcase and swung open the door to the Secret Annex. The leader of the group, an Austrian Nazi named Carl Silverbauer, focused on Miep while the others burst into the Annex upstairs. Miep Gies: He came to me, so near to me that I feel his [speaks Dutch] breath. "Are you not ashamed to help Jews?" "You must have the highest punishment, and you know what that is." Narrator: Miep and Allie barely escaped arrest. They could do nothing but standby helplessly as Anne and the rest were led down the stairs, loaded on to trucks outside, and driven off. As soon as they thought it was safe, they ran up to the Annex and found it in shambles. Miep Gies: All the papers were scattered on the floor, and we sorted. I say, "Al! This is the diary of Anne. Take home. Take!" And so we took all of the things together. We had hope that all the people came back and I want to see her smile when I give it, the diary. I want to see this, this smile of this child. Narrator: But now a look of terror had replaced Anne's smile, as what she and the others had most feared came true. In the hands of the Nazis, they were driven to Gestapo headquarters, then thrown into a downtown prison. Four days after their capture, they were put on a train through the Dutch countryside to a concentration camp known as Westerbork. Anne found some happiness at being outside in the fresh air after 25 months indoors, even if it was circled with barbed wire. But as the Franks soon found out, Westerbork was only a transit camp. Every Tuesday, trains left, bound for the east. No one in Westerbork had any real idea what lay beyond. They just knew enough to fear it. Jack Polak: In Westerbork, one lived for two days: on Tuesday and Wednesdays. On Thursday, you starts to tremble. On Friday, . . . Friday, you were told that you had to leave on Tuesday. On Saturday, you tried to get out of it. On Sunday, you got told that you can't get out of it. On Monday, you begged, all beautiful things as much as you can. Just know that you are going to be killed, and on Tuesday morning, 6:00 sharp, cattle cars left for an unknown destination, which 95% of the people thought were labor camps and turned out to be extermination camps. Narrator: At 6am, on the morning of September 3, 1944, after less than one month in Westerbork, the Frank family were among the thousand people loaded into cattle cars, bound for Auschwitz. They were unlucky. That train was the last that would ever leave Westerbork for the death camp. Those days in the cattle cars, with no room to sit or sleep, no food, no toilet, and no air, put many of the passengers into a state of shock. When they finally arrived at Auschwitz, they had no idea where they were. Evers: It was three days and, I think, two nights, and I had quite a lowered conscience. We were by very big lamps, and I thought we came to another planet, with three moons. So there we were because we had hardly to eat and hardly sleep all the time. Auschwitz was the end. That's where the Jews were brought to be killed. Immediately when you came there, there was this mangalin, who said, "Left or Right." And, and, Anne was lucky that she went to the other side and not straight into the gas chambers because she looked a bit older than her age. Children and old people immediately went into the gas chambers. Narrator: Until this moment, the Franks has been lucky. At least they were together, but now, their luck turned. As the crowds got off the train, Otto Frank was torn away from his weeping family. Anne, Margo, and their mother saw him for the last time when they were marched off to the women's barracks. As they shivered with grief and fear, German officers ordered them to strip and roughly shaved their bodies and heads. Evers: We were naked in, in the cold. Brought to rooms where there were a pile of shoes and a pile of dresses, and you could pick up a dress and a pair of shoes, and it was the whole clothing. Narrator: Anne lost the long black hair she was so proud of and the light cotton dress she wore was quickly infested with vermin, but at least, Anne and her mother and sister had each other. Evers: What I remember was a very close relationship, especially in Auschwitz, between the mother and the two girls. They were always together. They were very close. Narrator: In these terrible conditions, the friction between mother and daughter disappeared. All that mattered was that they survived together. Margo and Edith even gave up a chance to leave Auschwitz for a labor camp because Anne, who was suffering from scabies, an infestation of mites in the skin, was not allowed to go. Evers: In my whole interim, her mother decided to stay with Anna. If they could have gone without transport, they would have survived because nearly everybody of my transport, after Auschwitz, survived. Narrator: The girls and their mother were split up anyway. The Russian armies' advance had the Germans scrambling to dismantle Auschwitz and hide the evidence of their crimes. Around the 28th of October 1944, Margo and Anne saw their mother for the last time. They were put on a train headed for another concentration camp, Bergen Belsen. Frightened and alone, Margo and Anne could only hope that Belson would not be worse than Auschwitz, but it would be for them. In November 1944, after surviving two months at Auschwitz, 15-year-old Anne Frank and her 18-year-old sister, Margo, arrived in another concentration camp, Bergen Belsen. They were starving, sick, and alone. Yet, they should have counted themselves lucky to be alive, but their luck was wearing thin. Bergen Belsen had no gas chambers, but it was just as deadly to tens of thousands of prisoners. Polak: The living conditions were unbearable, I would say. First of all, you had a room and barrack with a bed, which is really not a bed, but some, uh, some, some room, uh, wood and one blanket. The horrible thing was that every blanket had lice. You had to kill the lice before you went to sleep because if you didn't kill the lice, you couldn't sleep, and you needed your sleep. Narrator: A plague of typhus was spread by the lice, and like many others, Anne and Margo soon bore its symptoms: chills, fever, sunken eyes and cheeks, deep fatigue. Soon, Margo was too weak to get up. Anne was only slightly stronger but was losing her will to live as her sister got worse. She had no idea that just over the fence was her schoolfriend, Hannah. Pick-Goslar: One day, somebody tells me,"You know, your friend Anne is here." And so I stood there and was waiting, and really after some minutes, I hear somebody is calling for me, and it was Anne. And really it was not the same Anne I had known. It was a real broken girl. She said, "I have nobody anymore." That was not true, but she couldn't know. Narrator: They met twice more at the barbed wire. Hannah tried to throw some extra food over for Anne. Pick-Goslar: And instead of her being happy, I hear she is crying. What happened? Another hungry woman caughts the package, run away with it. So I said, "Anna, we'll try it again." We tried it again after some days, and I don't remember, two days and then she caught the package at least, but it was the last time we could speak. By February 1945, Germany was nearing defeat but still insisted on keeping its prisoners. The Allied advance produced a flurry of activity at the camp, but by the time Hannah went back to the fence, the women in Anne's barracks had been moved. but Anne and Margo did not make the trip. Sometime in late February, Margo Frank died. Anne was sure she was alone, without her family, without her diary, Kitty. What she did not know was that one member of the Secret Annex had survived the Nazi death camps, her beloved father, Otto. Pick-Goslar: This, Anne didn't know, and you know what is even most sad: When I met Anna and we spoke about her father, he was already liberated because Auschwitz was liberated 27 of January, and I met Anne beginning of February. I always thought if she would have known her father is alive, maybe she'd had a little more strength to survive. Anne: It's a wonder I haven't abandoned all my ideals. They seem so absurd and impractical. Yet, I cling to them because I still believe in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. It's utterly impossible for me to put my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering, and death. Narrator: Anne Frank died a day or two after her sister Margo, sometime in late February or early March of 1945. Their bodies, like so many others, were thrown into the mass graves of Bergen Belsen. Little over a month later, on April 15, 1945, the camp was liberated by British troops. In the following months, millions of refugees made their way across the ruins of war-torn Europe, hoping to find someone waiting for them in what was left of their homes. With nowhere else to go, Otto Frank arrived on the doorstep of his old friend and protector, Miep Gies. Miep Gies: When the war was over after armistice, Mr. Frank came back, but I did not give him the diary. I was waiting for Anne. Narrator: Otto Frank knew that his wife had died at Auschwitz, but he still hoped Anne and Margo might return. After advertising for months, he finally received the news that he had been dreading: his girls were dead. He had nothing left, but Miep knew she had one small thing that could bring his Anne back, if only in spirit, the diary. Miep Gies: I took all the papers out of my desk and give it to Mr. Frank, with the words, "This is from your daughter, Anne." Can you understand how this man looked at me? Lost his wife, lost his two children, yet, a diary. I didn't know what to do with this man. Narrator: Otto Frank pored over the diary of his daughter for weeks. In her vivid voice on the page, he found a girl he hardly recognized. Pick-Goslar: The first thing he told me is that he got from Miep the papers and that he didn't know his daughter. That is what he said to me. He was looking at her always as a little girl, and she was grown up. Anne: You've known for a long time that my greatest wish is to be a journalist and later on a famous writer. After the war, I'd like to publish a book called The Secret Annex. It remains to be seen whether I'll succeed. Narrator: Her father finally saw her as she wanted to be seen, as a writer, one who's clear words almost brought his daughter back to life. In 1947, he honored her wish and published excerpts from the diary under her title, Het Achter huis, the Secret Annex. Miep Gies: I read it, all of it. and I can tell you, at last, I was happy because all the people came in. I saw all the people again. I heard their voices. I was happy. Narrator: Otto Frank was impressed with the effect Anne's diary had on those who read it, and he had a feeling her message would appeal to many others, but even Anne would never have dreamed how large her audience would become. After Anne Frank died in a concentration camp in 1945, her father had nothing left of his family, except his grief and her diary, but that was a powerful combination. Anne: I want to go on living, even after my death, and that's why I am so grateful to God for having given me this gift, which I can use to develop myself and to express all that's inside me. Narrator: Anne's gift did grant her a kind of afterlife, helped in large part by her father. Otto Frank's hope was that his daughter's words might avert some recurrence of what they had endured, and that he would spend the rest of his life, making Anne a symbol, a cause, an institution. Otto Frank: Every day and every day, I work and think of my people. You see, after the diary has been published, I get hundreds, thousands of letters from young people, and my task is to speak to them, to write to them, not to forget that we have to work against prejudice and discrimination. That is my task. Narrator: Otto Frank's optimistic view of his daughter's work found its perfect audience in post-war America. The American edition of Anne's diary, published in 1952, as The Diary of a Young Girl, became an immediate bestseller. Three years later, it was Pulitzer prize-winning hit on Broadway. In the play, one of Anne's phrases became the dramatic last line, and those few words, taken out of their darker context, made it into a sentimental favorite, which seem to make Anne into a saint. Anne: I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart. Narrator: In 1959, Hollywood also portrayed Anne as a young martyr, whose words seem to absolve the world of the crimes of war. Anne (actress): I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart. Narrator: Many critics later objected to the use of this line to characterize her view of the world. Langer: Why don't they quote this sentence from the diary? "There's a destructive urge in people," Anne wrote, "the urge to rage, murder, and kill, and until all of humanity without exception undergoes a metamorphosis, wars will continue to be waged." That's the exact opposite of "In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." Does she contradict herself? Of course she does. She was a creature of moods, like all of us. At one point, she believed that, and at another point, she believed this, and she said to herself, If I go on believing in the destructive murderous rage in people, I am going to become a pessimist, and life won't be possible. So I have to go on believing that, deep down, there's some thing good in people. That's all. It was a necessity for her. It was not an absolute, unalterable philosophical truth. Woman tour guide: So we'll arrive in a few moments at #263, the third house from the corner, is the Anne Frank house, the house where she was hidden during the last World War. Narrator: Anne's story struck a chord with audiences from all over the world, and it had moved hundreds of thousands of readers to make the pilgrimage to the Secret Annex, which became a museum in 1960. Under Otto Frank's guidance until his death in 1980, the Anne Frank House grew into an international organization, spreading a message of tolerance to young people in particular, using exhibits and lectures and always Anne's words. Polak: She writes about all the things young children think about, about God, and about religion, and about nature, and about sex, and about relationships with your parents, and about anti-Semitism, and about war and you can go on and on. Narrator: Yet, the messages, no matter how important, would never been heard, had Anne not been the writer she was. In 1986, her talent and character were revealed even more clearly when her full manuscript was published, followed by a new definitive edition of her diary. In 1997, the new material was reflected in an updated version of the Broadway play. Elias: She's not a saint. She was never a saint, but people had a feeling she was some kind of, uh, an idol. She's not. She was a real, 100% real girl, like everybody else, like all the other girls, with the exception that she had a great talent for writing. Kesselman: There's nothing false about Anne. There's not a moment in that diary that's not absolutely honest. She never conceals, you know, or if she does, then she goes back and does it again and tells the truth. She's just constantly digging for the truth, the truth, the truth. Narrator: It was her honesty that made her the writer she was, that allowed her to transcend her circumstances in the only way she could. It was her search for the truth that made her live beyond her death, and it is what makes her silence all the more poignant. van Maarsan: I'm sure she would laugh to be, if she'd had known that she would be famous. Uh, I don't know if she would have given her life for it. Silverberg: I often wonder what she might have become, at an old age or perhaps as an adult. We don't know. Pick-Goslar: She really could have given a lot to mankind. Miep Gies: So young as she was, she saw how to live. Polak: Anne was a sexy girl and was a bright girl and was - she hadn't even had arithmetics yet. She was a philosopher. She was a, uh, plain girl. I think that's the greatest thing. She had all the features what everybody wants to be. Anne: Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I have never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on, neither I nor anyone else would be interested in the musings of 13-year-old school girl. Oh well. It doesn't matter. I feel like writing.
B1 US narrator diary otto margo auschwitz annex Anne Frank The Life of a Young Girl 540 23 Mmot Hsieh posted on 2015/11/18 More Share Save Report Video vocabulary