The "Leica Freedom Train" was not an actual locomotive, but a metaphor for the heroic actions of the Leitz family during the Holocaust. Owners of the Leica camera company, they worked covertly to save hundreds of Jews from persecution by the Nazi regime, a remarkable humanitarian effort that has only recently come to light.
Founded in 1869 by Ernst Leitz in Wetzlar, Germany, the company initially gained fame for its microscopes and optical instruments. However, its global reputation soared when Oskar Barnack developed the first practical 35mm camera, the Ur-Leica, in 1914. This innovation, coupled with the company’s high-quality lenses, made Leica a giant in the photography world. Leitz Camera became synonymous with precision and excellence, a status that ironically placed it in the crosshairs of Nazi propagandists during Hitler’s reign.
Ernst Leitz II, who succeeded his father, continued the company's tradition of progressive worker policies, which were exceptional for their time. Leitz provided paid sick leave, pensions, and healthcare—benefits that were rare in the early 20th century. However, when Hitler rose to power in 1933, Leitz II's ethical convictions were put to the ultimate test. Aware of the dangers posed to his Jewish employees and friends, he quietly began arranging their transfers to company offices abroad in France, Britain, Hong Kong, and the United States. The idea was simple: to help as many Jews escape Nazi Germany as possible by giving them jobs at Leica offices in safer countries.
Leitz also went beyond just his employees, "hiring" Jewish friends and acquaintances to facilitate their emigration, thus placing their lives out of the reach of Nazi persecution. As Hitler’s regime grew more violent, this mission became even more urgent. Following Kristallnacht in 1938, when Jewish businesses, synagogues, and homes were attacked, and thousands of Jewish men were sent to concentration camps, Leitz had to intensify his rescue efforts. This marked the peak of the so-called "Leica Freedom Train," as the Leitz family worked tirelessly to save as many lives as they could.
While the exact number of people saved through these efforts remains unclear, estimates suggest the Leitz family’s actions spared several hundred Jews from certain death. In some cases, their intervention extended beyond simply getting people out of Germany. When Jewish refugees arrived in New York, for example, they would disembark and go directly to the Leica office in Manhattan. There, they would receive a new Leica camera and a small stipend, allowing them to start their new lives with some measure of security. These cameras, in many instances, served as a form of insurance—items that could be sold or traded for money as they adapted to life in a foreign country.
One poignant story is that of Kurt Rosenberg, a young Jewish photographer who had worked for Leica before fleeing to the U.S. in 1938. Rosenberg wrote numerous letters to his family in Germany, trying to help them with visa applications, but despite his efforts, his mother and father both perished, and his brother committed suicide. In 1943, Rosenberg joined the U.S. Army, fighting to end the atrocities that had devastated his family. Tragically, he was killed in action before he could receive his U.S. citizenship.
Even as the Nazis tightened their grip on Germany, and the borders closed in 1939, the Leitz family continued to aid Jews in any way they could. Despite being under surveillance by the Nazi regime, the Leitz company’s global importance and its contributions to the war effort—particularly through optical innovations—afforded Ernst Leitz II a certain level of protection. However, his daughter, Elsie Kühn-Leitz, was arrested by the Gestapo for helping Jewish women escape into Switzerland. She suffered brutal interrogation and imprisonment but was eventually released after her father paid a hefty bribe. Despite the dangers, Elsie continued to fight for the humane treatment of Jewish workers, many of whom had been forced into slave labor in the Leitz factory by the Nazis.
As the war progressed, the Leitz family’s commitment to human dignity never wavered. Leitz II even joined the Nazi party in 1942, not out of support for their ideology, but as a means to protect his company and continue his clandestine rescue efforts. The Nazis, aware of his activities, tolerated his defiance because Leica’s global business brought in foreign currency, vital to the war effort. This tenuous arrangement allowed Leitz to keep operating under the radar, even as others who defied the regime were imprisoned or killed.
The story of the Leica Freedom Train remained largely untold for decades after World War II. The Leitz family never sought public recognition for their actions, considering it their moral duty rather than something worthy of praise. It’s only in recent years that their heroic efforts have come to light, as historians have begun to uncover the full extent of what the Leitz family did to protect Jews during the Holocaust.
To this day, Leica Camera AG, the successor to the Leitz Camera Company, maintains the principles of fairness and respect for its workers that Ernst Leitz II and his father championed. The family’s quiet heroism serves as a powerful reminder of how one company’s commitment to doing what was right saved hundreds of lives. If more businesses today followed the example of the Leitz family, the world would be a much better place.
